Pieces
by BlackBird47
Summary: Bruce and Selina's life together after the events of "Dark Knight Rises"...
1. I Come to You in Pieces

A/N- Thank you to everyone who gave me such awesome feedback for my Bruce/Selina "Choice" story- you really encouraged me to return to this fandom. I'm so glad the movie ended the way it did. It left plenty of unanswered questions, but in the best possible way. This is my attempt to fill in the blanks…

Pieces

_Then I see your face_

_I know I'm finally yours_

_I find everything_

_I thought I lost before_

_You call my name_

_I come to you in pieces_

_So you can make me whole_

_-"Pieces" Red_

She stripped off her mask the moment she crossed the threshold of her apartment, casting it aside and walking towards her vanity. Her eyes were still burning with tears, the memory of his mouth hard against hers was still tingling on her lips, but she couldn't think about any of that now. She would never know if Bruce's sacrifice for Gotham had been worth it, because she was getting the hell out of here as fast as she could.

Selina opened her laptop, plugging the flash drive he had given her into the USB port. With this tiny little flash drive bearing the Wayne Industries logo, he had given her the second chance she'd always wanted. And he had given it to her before she'd even held up her part of the deal by clearing the tunnel. He'd had faith in her, seen something in her that was worth trusting, and his belief had pulled her back to save him. She couldn't leave him.

So he'd left her instead, in the most final way possible. And he'd been so damn noble about it she couldn't even hate him. Selina impatiently wiped the tears off her cheeks, her no-frills laptop humming with effort as it booted up the massive Clean Slate program. After a moment, a white text box appeared on a black screen, with a cursor blinking expectantly, waiting for a name and date of birth.

It seemed impossible that something like this could really work, but she had to try. Bruce had said it would work, and he'd never failed her before. Taking a deep breath, Selina typed her first and last name and her date of birth, hitting enter. The screen began scrolling and deleting countless images of her, police reports, mug shots, newspaper articles decrying the crimes of "The Cat", court transcripts, receipts, credit card information, even the birth certificate where her charming mother had put a question mark on the line reserved for her father's name. She was being wiped off the face of the earth, and it only took a matter of minutes. When it was over, the screen returned to black, and the little white text box returned to her screen, the cursor blinking again. It was done.

She spared no time to dwell on the enormity of what she had just done, pulling open her jewelry drawer and emptying its contents before taking out the false bottom to withdraw her emergency stash, a simple white envelope stuffed with a fake passport and driver's license in front of a nice fat clip of hundreds. Enough to get her out of Gotham for now. Now she just needed to change her clothes, maybe throw on a blond wig, and catch the next flight out of here.

Selina went to pull the flash drive out of her computer and pack up her computer, but before she could—

"Bruce Wayne. February 19, 1977."

She whipped around at the sound, drawing her handgun from her belt in one smooth, silent motion and aiming it at the source of the voice in the darkened corner of her bedroom. With a slight grunting noise of effort, a dark figure reached up, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate his bruised and bloody features. She let out a stunned sound of disbelief, staggering back a few steps. It was really him. He was still wearing the Batsuit, but had taken off the mask.

"If it's not too much trouble." He was smiling. The son of a bitch was smiling, like this was all some big joke.

"What the hell…" she sputtered— "I…I watched you die."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you the truth, but there was no time."

"And what's the truth?" Her voice was shaking. She was still pointing the gun at his face, but with lessening conviction.

"I fixed the autopilot. Lucius didn't know. I had to let Gotham believe that Batman died in that explosion."

"_Why_?" She demanded.

"So I could start over." He heaved himself up to a sitting position, clutching his side but never looking away from her. "With you, if your offer's still good."

"My offer?"

"Yes. You asked me…" he took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his side, "You asked me to leave with you. My answer is yes."

She replaced her gun in its holster, giving him a short humorless laugh. "Wow, Bruce. Lucky me. I mean, you really know how to flatter a girl. Let's see. You turn me down cold the first time. You let me think you're dead. And now…you want to run away together? What's the thought process here? Your last girlfriend turned out to be a murderous psychopath, so me lifting a few diamond necklaces here and there suddenly doesn't seem so bad?"

"She has nothing to do with this." He shook his head, his eyes still dark with humiliated anger at the mention of Talia. He looked back up to Selina. "I want you."

Selina swallowed hard, running a hand through her hair, trying to process everything that was happening. "I…I mean, what exactly are you asking? We leave together, and then what?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just know that wherever I go next, I want it to be with you."

Her eyes softened slightly at this sentiment, but she tried to keep her expression impassive as she looked him over. "You're a mess. How are we supposed to split town when you can barely walk?"

"I'm fine." He waved his hand, trying to play off his injuries as he stood up before instantly crumpling against the wall with a cry of agony.

She caught him before he fell, hauling him up and helping him back to the bed, giving him a look. "You're _not_ fine. How did you even get to my apartment like this?"

"Very slowly." He rubbed his forehead, clutching his side again and cursing under his breath. "I think something's broken."

"Probably many things." Selina sighed. "You need to go to a hospital."

"No. No." Bruce looked up at her desperately. "We have to get out of Gotham. Now."

"Honey. Get real. You won't make the trip."

"You'll have to help me." He nodded his head towards a duffel bag beside her bed. "Look inside."

She set him gently back against the pillows of her bed before leaning down to unzip the duffel bag. There were countless neat stacks of bound hundred dollar bills stuffed inside, along with a change of clothes and the fake passport he'd used to get back into the country.

"Two million in cash." Bruce said wearily. "I...uh, liquidated some assets before I came back to Gotham. Not much, but enough for us to disappear."

"Yeah, I should say so." She looked back up to him with wide eyes. "What, you just left this here?"

"I wanted you to have it. If I didn't make it…I wanted you to get your fresh start."

Selina looked at him for a long moment, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"I should be asking you the same question. You're the one who saved my life."

She reached out, her hand on his cheek. "You saved all of us."

He shrugged with a small smile. "It was nothing."

"Yeah, right." She leaned forward, kissing his bruised cheek gently. "Looks like it was a walk in the park."

"Let's get out of here." He breathed out.

Selina nodded, getting up to grab her laptop and bring it back over to the bed, Bruce reaching out to absently brush her hair behind her ear as she typed his name into the Clean Slate program.

"What was your birthday again?"

"February 19, 1977."

She entered the date, and hit enter with a flourish. They both watched as every mention of Bruce Wayne—tax statements, Forbes power lists, college transcripts, even the many newspaper articles decrying his parent's deaths—all erased. When the screen went black again, Bruce looked even more exhausted, letting out a long breath.

Selina patted his leg. "Congratulations, Mr. Wayne. You no longer exist."

He just nodded, starting to ease the breastplate of the Batsuit off of his shoulders. "Could you give me a hand?"

"Undressing you? Oh, fine, twist my arm." She smiled, helping him out of the suit, Bruce wincing when she uncovered the still-bleeding stab wound in his side.

"Bruce…" Selina's face fell with concern, gingerly prodding the wound. "We really should get you to a doctor—"

"You have a first aid kit?"

"Yeah, but—"

"If we can just stop the bleeding, I'll be fine."

She shook her head, helping him bandage the wound, clean up his face and change into his civilian clothes before walking over to her closet, stripping off her catsuit and looking over her shoulder to see Bruce politely looking away. Selina rolled her eyes. "Who says chivalry is dead?" she muttered under her breath, grabbing a white button up shirt and black skirt, stepping into bright red heels and getting dressed before throwing a few changes of clothes, his duffel bag, her envelope of fake IDs and money, and some bathroom essentials into a suitcase.

"You ready to give this another try?" She zipped up the suitcase, picking it up before walking back over to him.

"Yes. Just…go slow, okay?" Bruce put an arm over her thin shoulders, breathing hard as she helped him to his feet.

"Tell me if you need to rest." Selina said, her voice surprisingly gentle as they made their way slowly to the door.

"Is everything all right, ma'am?" The valet carrying their bags looked over his shoulder to see the new arrivals making very slow progress down the first class passage of the ship, the man leaning heavily against his female companion, his eyes unfocused and his forehead shining with sweat.

"Oh, yes. My husband's just had a little too much to drink." Selina laughed airily. "Started the vacation a bit early, you know."

"Of course, ma'am." The valet let them into their suite. "You just let me know if you need anything. You or your husband."

"Thanks so much." Selina smiled charmingly, pressing a tip into his hand and keeping the smile frozen on her face until he left the room and closed the door behind him. As soon as they were alone, Bruce let out a long-repressed groan of pain, staggering over to the bed and collapsing.

She sat down beside him, stroking the hair back off his forehead, her face falling with worry. Their long journey from Gotham to an upstate port town had taken its toll, and Bruce seemed to be growing weaker with each new moment, bleeding through heavy bandages and seeming to drift in and out of consciousness without warning. When he felt her hand against his forehead, Bruce gripped her arm tightly, trying to breathe through the pain, Selina speaking softly. "I know, honey, I know. You did really well. Just breathe. We're safe now. No one can find us."

"I think…it may be time…to call the doctor." Bruce mumbled, his face pressed against her skirt. "Can you…think of some…kind of story?"

"Please." She rolled her eyes, reaching over him and picking up the phone in their room, pressing the emergency button. "Hello. My name is Sarah Peters. Yes, in Suite 2B. It seems my husband Daniel was acquainting himself with the mini-bar while I unpacked our things, and he's had a bit of a tumble. Broken glass everywhere, the poor dear. I wouldn't normally bother you, but there's a fair bit of blood…yes. 2B. Oh, thank you. I'm more embarrassed than anything…all right. Thank you again."

She hung up the phone, crossing the room with her usual cool efficiency to open the mini bar and unscrew the top of a small bottle of vodka before crossing back to Bruce and giving it a generous sip. "That should help some." She took the bottle to the bathroom, breaking it against the marble counter and stepping back to examine the broken pieces covering the tile floor. She shrugged. Convincing enough.

"Be careful." Bruce tried to sit up.

"I'm fine." She assured him. "You're the one who slipped and fell. Never could hold your liquor." She sat back down beside him on the bed. "The doctor's on his way."

"Thank you, Selina." Bruce breathed out, his skin dangerously pale as he tried to catch his breath.

"It's Mrs. Peters, dear." She reminded him, watching his face contort with pain when he attempted to shift around to look at her. Selina stopped him, her hand on his chest. "Just stay still. I'll help you. What can I do?"

"Just…just stay here with me." He reached out, gripping her hand tightly, trying to breathe through a fresh wave of pain.

"I'm here," she assured him, the pressure of his grip oddly comforting. It was nice to be needed.

_Wherever I go next, I want it to be with you._

She remembered his words, suddenly overwhelmed with such a strong surge of affection for him that it scared her. She had to be careful. He had been so out of it the last few days that she didn't even know if he was fully aware of what was happening. Maybe he didn't even remember what he said that night in her apartment—he certainly hadn't said anything like it since.

Maybe it would be better for them both if she just tried to forget it too.

"Hey—I'm home! And I come bearing groceries." Selina called as she walked into their flat in London, her arms laden down with Tesco bags as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"I'm outside." Bruce called back from the open door leading out to the balcony.

"I'll be right there."

It was their second month in London, and they had been staying there mostly because it was where the ship had docked and Bruce hadn't really been in any state to keep roaming around the country. During the journey over, Selina had convinced the ship doctor that her husband's many injuries resorted from his association with "the wrong kind of people" and had given many strongly worded hints that she meant the mob and he really shouldn't ask any more questions about it. The doctor had seemed reasonably intimidated, and treated Bruce's three broken ribs and stab wound without further comment, and had even outfitted him with a brace for his still-mangled back. The treatment and brace helped considerably, but Bruce, despite his best efforts, still seemed to grow tired easily and slept most days. Selina had taken the opportunity to explore London, and had found herself absolutely enamored. Before this, she'd seldom ever even left Gotham, and being in a foreign country as Mrs. Daniel Peters was proving to be a very welcome change of pace, even if Mr. Daniel Peters was not proving to be the most laugh-a-minute travel companion.

Selina put away the groceries, feeling an odd domestic thrill at the thought that she was outfitting _their_ home. She'd never shared a space with anyone before, never even bothered with a relationship, never come home to anyone. Until now.

_Stop it. _She commanded herself, shaking her head. _He needed someone to help him get out of the country. He probably just feels stuck with me now._

Men had always treated her like shit. It was just a depressingly reliable fact of her existence. She refused to get her hopes up about whatever was happening with her and Bruce, only to have him let her down.

And she had no reason to think he was any different than the other assholes she'd encountered. She remembered growing up and reading about him in the newspapers. Bruce Wayne famously had a different gorgeous girl on his arm each time he was photographed. Women seemed entirely disposable to him, just as they were to most men, and Selina was waiting for the moment he'd regain his strength, grow tired of her and move on to some European model.

Not like she'd care, Selina reminded herself. She was a master of staying unattached, counting on no one but herself. It was much easier that way. She was always prepared to leave any situation at a moment's notice. Even now, though it gave her a small twinge of guilt every time she thought of it, she had squirreled away enough of Bruce's money under a floorboard that she could disappear with no problem if he kicked her out. And she would have no guilt about robbing him, she assured herself—he deserved what he got for shacking up with a thief.

Selina finished unpacking the groceries, feeling much less friendly towards him than she had when she'd first gotten home. What had she been thinking? Playing wifey to Bruce Wayne? Talk about an exercise in futility.

She walked out on the balcony, finding him reading a book, a light London rain starting to fall outside. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants with a blanket over his legs, attractive scruff turning more and more into a full mountain man beard with each passing day. Selina crossed her arms over her chest, grinning.

"You look like a little old man."

Bruce closed his book, looking up at her with a calm, almost peaceful smile. "You look beautiful."

Selina felt her cheeks flush red, glancing down at her jeans and black turtleneck. "Oh, please. You've just been cooped up in here for too long. Forgotten what actual beautiful women look like."

Bruce just stared at her, seemingly undeterred by her inability to take a compliment. "The first time I saw you, you didn't even look real. I thought I'd finally lost it…just made you up."

Selina raised an eyebrow. "Have you been mixing medications?"

"No. I finally feel like myself, actually. And I've been thinking about you. A lot." He patted the seat next to him. "Sit down."

She swallowed hard, perching on the very edge of the chair as if she might take flight at any moment, refusing to fully commit to this kind of conversation. "So you're feeling better?"

"Yes. I went for a walk while you were gone. Got my blood flowing." He took a deep breath. "And I feel like I'm finally thinking clearly. Finally able to focus on something other than the pain." He reached out, his hand over hers. "You know, I never really thanked you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Selina said quietly, watching with slowly dawning fear as his hand tightened over hers and he leaned towards her, Selina frozen, every nerve in her body electric with anticipation as he brushed his lips against hers. She pulled away almost immediately, shaking her head. "Don't. Don't…do that. You don't owe me anything, Bruce."

His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "I know that. I didn't do it because I feel like I owe you—"

"Good." She got back up to her feet. "Because I don't want anything from you."

"Selina, come on. You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" she practically snarled.

Bruce sighed, setting everything aside, getting to his feet and seizing her arms with one sudden motion. Selina's eyes widened with surprise. Once you've helped someone limp to the bathroom in the middle of the night, it's a little hard to see them as a physically intimidating presence anymore, but suddenly he wasn't Bruce Wayne the invalid. He looked enormous, towering over her, his hazel eyes dark with anger and…something else. Something that made her feel shaky and hot, and definitely something that made her want to run away as fast as possible before she made a huge mistake.

"Look at me." he commanded. "I told you that night in your apartment that I want you, and I meant it. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I've never felt this way about anyone."

"Stop—" she shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "Please, stop."

"And maybe it would be easier if we just went our separate ways, forget any of this ever happened. But I don't want to." He looked over her face, taking a deep breath. "I would never do anything to hurt you. All I've ever wanted is to take care of you."

She rolled her eyes, trying to pull away from him, like a wild animal caught in a trap. "I don't _need_ anyone to take care of me—"

"Of course you do. Everyone does. I do."

"No." Selina shook her head. "You'll get tired of me, just like everyone else."

"That could never happen."

"How do you know?"

"Because the only thing I couldn't stand to leave behind in Gotham was you. None of the rest of it mattered. If I was starting over, I knew it had to be with you."

"Why? Because I was convenient?"

"Selina. There's nothing convenient about you." Bruce laughed. "There never has been. The first two times I saw you, you robbed me."

"Oh, come on." The slightest ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "No permanent damage done."

"You used my fingerprints to bankrupt me."

"That's just how I say I care."

He grinned. "Then I don't know if I can survive you caring about me."

"You look pretty healthy to me." She leaned her head back slightly to look up at him. "Finally."

"You tired of living with a cripple?" Bruce smiled.

"I didn't say that." She rested her hands on his waist. "I am relieved you haven't resorted to the cane again though."

"Me too. Seems like it would really get in the way." He pulled her towards him, kissing her hard, Selina's hands sliding up over his shoulders as she kissed him back. There was slow, deep steadiness in the way he kissed her, and with his arms wrapped around her, she felt safe, hidden from the rest of the world, suddenly wanting to just disappear inside of this forever, never bother with the rest of the world again…

When they finally broke apart a long while later, she smiled up at him, cleaning her red lipstick off of his mouth with her thumb. She hadn't bothered with smudge-proof that morning. She hadn't known she'd encounter such a good reason to have it smudged. They looked at each other for a long moment, both secretly wanting more, but sharing the nerve-wracking moment after a kiss where you have to discern if the other person wants more too. It had started to rain harder outside, and some of the rain was splashing onto their covered balcony. Bruce seized the excuse.

"Do you want to…go inside? Get out of the rain?"

She nodded, fully understanding his meaning. "Oh, hell yes."

They kissed again, stumbling backwards towards the apartment, pulling off each other's clothes before they were even fully inside, Selina kicking the door to the outside closed with her black high-heeled shoe. They finally made their way to Bruce's bedroom, Selina still wearing only her underwear and high heels, Bruce rather embarrassingly struggling with the straps of his back brace.

"This thing's like a damn strait jacket…" Bruce grunted, seeming to resort to trying to rip it off instead. "It has never taken this long, I swear…"

"Don't hear that one much from the boys." Selina grinned.

"Seriously, I've almost got it…"

Selina shook her head, taking off her bra, watching his struggle with the bulky brace. "Oh, no, baby. Leave it on."

"You really don't mind?" Bruce looked up at her.

"I'm kinky like that." She shrugged, kicking off her shoes and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him as they fell back on his bed together. After they made out for a moment longer, Selina broke away with a sigh.

"What?" Bruce asked nervously.

"Yeah, this thing's gotta go." She reached around to the back of his brace. "Velcro and nakedness don't really seem to be working for me."

"I'm sorry," he blushed furiously, helping her as they both finally got it off, Bruce laughing as she let out a little cheer before he kissed her again, finally nothing between them, medical-issue or otherwise. They were both still smiling as they kissed, Selina seemingly unable to stop laughing until they were finally in the right position and she suddenly felt him inside her. Her breath caught in her throat, her hand tightening at the back of his neck as she looked up at him, her brown eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hoping he hadn't done something wrong.

"N-Nothing. Nothing's wrong." She shook her head, her smile returning. "You just tell me if you need a stretch break, old man."

"Shut up." They kissed again, and she let out a throaty groan of approval against his mouth when he thrust into her, Selina pulling him with her as she leaned back on one elbow to arch her hips against his, their bodies fitting and moving together perfectly, like they should have been doing this all along. She seemed to really know what she was doing, keeping her hand on his shoulder and directing him with her lips pressed against his ear and the circling of her hips to move at a slow, almost rolling pace that was making Bruce dizzyingly light-headed and almost sick with pleasure. As they started to near the end, Selina urged him on, moaning louder than any girl he'd ever been with, then saying things into his ear that made Bruce feel like he was ten feet tall and unstoppable, no longer a weak, sickly patient, but a man again, and a man who was making her lose her mind, Selina completely unbothered by their paper-thin walls or the shouted complaint from their neighbor—"Oh, come off it! It's the middle of the day!"—followed by a muttered "Fucking American tourists…" The neighbor's displeasure seemed to only heighten hers, and Bruce followed her lead, not holding back for once, the pain in his back ignored at first then finally forgotten as he buried his face in the soft, sweet-smelling skin of her neck, groaning out her name only to have their neighbor start to pound on the wall with the blunt end of a broomstick—"Oi, you two!", Bruce just smiling and deciding that this was definitely worth getting kicked out of the building, if it came to that.

He started to move harder and faster against her, Selina wrapping her legs more tightly around him as the slick skin over their shared heartbeats and tangled limbs seemed to pulse with an almost unbearable heat, and suddenly, she climaxed with a blinding rush that caused her to let out the kind of cry that could only be attributed to immense pleasure or searing pain, her red nails digging into his back, Bruce letting out a guttural, undignified sound against her shoulder when he followed after her. They collapsed against each other afterwards, breathing hard, feeling like they had just survived some kind of natural disaster. A really, really fun natural disaster.

"Selina…" he spoke first, his voice hoarse and rough, rolling onto his back beside her, "I've never…not with anyone…not like that."

She looked over at him, sitting up slightly and twisting her sweaty dark hair off her neck as her lips spread into a playful grin. "I don't know. You were okay."

Bruce shook his head with a sleepy smile, running his hand along the curve of her stomach. "Nothing special?"

"Okay, fine. Maybe a little special. Our neighbor definitely just called the police, so we must be doing something right."

"You really think he called the cops?" The good-little-prep-schooler in Bruce was momentarily horrified.

"Do you care?" Selina shrugged, seemingly amused by his latent people-pleasing tendencies.

"No, no. Of course not. I've just never been arrested for…uh…."

"Sex noises?"

"Yeah. Why, have you?"

"No, of course not." She climbed to her feet, stretching. "Not real ones, anyway."

"I never know if you're joking." Bruce crossed his hands behind his head, decadently looking over her naked body.

"And, honey, you never will." She grabbed a silk bathrobe, throwing it over her thin shoulders. "I'm going to take a shower. Let me know if you need any help with the cops."

"I think I can handle them."

"Take it easy, killer." She looked over her shoulder at him, winking. "We can't have you throwing out your back now. You've had quite a day, and it's only noon."

"You know, I think I could really get used to early retirement." He called after her, receiving no answer but the sound of the shower being turned on. Bruce let out a long breath, shaking his head with bemusement. Apparently Selina wasn't much for holding each other after.

A/N- Until Chapter Two! Coming up— sex changes everything, and Bruce and Selina get mugged by a very unlucky criminal…thanks for reading! I love reviews.


	2. Breathe Into Me

A/N- Wow. You guys are the best! I really cannot tell you how much your outpouring of support for this story has encouraged me as a writer, but let me just say thank all of you so much. I am so excited to share the rest of this story with you, and I hope you enjoy the ride! Thank you again. All the lyrics used at the beginning of chapters will be from the amazing band Red. On to Chapter Two!

Pieces

Chapter Two

_And this is how it feels when I ignore the words you spoke to me_

_And this is where I lose myself when I keep running away from you_

_And this is who I am when I don't know myself anymore_

_And this is what I choose when it's all left up to me_

_Breathe your life into me, I can feel you_

_I'm falling, falling faster_

_Breathe your life into me, I still need you_

_I'm falling, falling_

_-"Breathe Into Me"_

"Still hard at work?" Selina tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice when she walked into their apartment to find Bruce still on his laptop, just where she had left him two hours ago.

Bruce quickly closed the computer. "Just finishing something up." He looked up at her, smiling pleasantly as Selina unzipped and tossed aside the track jacket she had been wearing over a black sports bra and sweatpants. "How was your run?"

Selina grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, drinking nearly half of it before she wiped off her mouth and answered. "Muggy as hell."

Bruce set his laptop aside, getting up off the couch and crossing to her, his hands on her waist as he kissed her hello. Selina set down the water bottle so she could properly kiss him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her obvious bad mood seemingly forgotten for a moment. Bruce had discovered this odd quirk after living with Selina for just over three months—the physical aspect of their relationship seemed to come very naturally to her even when they had been driving each other crazy all day, but even after spending their days fairly exclusively in each other's company, she still seemed distant and closed-off when it came to anything emotional or vulnerable. He felt like he still didn't know her much better than he had back in Gotham. And it wasn't as though he was the most emotionally available person in the world by nature. So their relationship remained in the frustrating, nebulous phase of not being fully defined. And seeing that neither one of them had ever really been in a defined relationship before, they had no idea how such a thing even came about.

So the dance continued. When their kiss hello ended and they broke apart, Bruce tucked a damp strand of her hair back behind her ear, looking over her pale, make-up free skin and slightly flushed cheeks. "You always look the most beautiful like this."

"What, drenched in sweat and wearing drawstring pants?" Selina laughed. "You're delusional." She messed up his hair before pulling away from him, already stripping off her clothes and leaving a trail as she walked to the bathroom. "I'm gonna clean up. You can join me if you want."

Bruce cast a brief look back at his closed laptop. He was going to have to tell her sooner or later. Confront her with the truth he felt like he'd been carrying around forever.

But not now. Not yet. He mentally came to the same conclusion he'd been placating himself with for weeks, even though he knew he was running out of time.

He crossed the apartment, opening the bathroom door, steam already starting to fill the air as Selina turned to face him, naked and not at all self-conscious, pulling her long dark hair out of its ponytail and smiling at the look on his face as she shook out her hair around her shoulders. She stepped closer to him, pulling his t-shirt off over his head with both hands, resting them on his bare chest afterwards as Bruce leaned down to kiss her. "You are such an easy mark," Selina mumbled against his mouth, smiling as he kissed her and they both happily avoided having "the talk" for a little while longer.

Later that night, Selina was getting ready to go to sleep while Bruce was already in bed, still on that damn laptop.

She finished brushing her teeth, spitting in the sink, wiping off her mouth with a handtowel, and walking into his bedroom that they'd been sharing for the past month. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Bruce closed his laptop again, that same infuriatingly guilty expression on his face.

Selina crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" he asked innocently, setting the computer aside.

"Close your computer every time I walk in the room. It makes you look like a teenager whose mom just caught them watching the porn."

Bruce sighed. "Well, I can tell you I definitely was not watching porn."

"Then what are you doing? What have you _been_ doing for the past month? It feels like every time I leave the room, you're back to typing away on that damn thing."

Bruce didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, abruptly— "We have to leave London, Selina. Or…I have to leave London. Tomorrow night."

Her brow furrowed with confusion. "What? Why?"

"I found us more money. That's what I've been working on so much. It took some doing…and some very creative accounting…but I managed to hack into and clean out an old offshore account I kept under an alias. But even though I encrypted everything and I think I covered my tracks, there's still a chance someone could trace the log-in ID back to me and our location here in London. I don't want that to happen, for both of our sakes. So I'm leaving tomorrow for France."

Selina nodded, her dark brown eyes flooding with hurt, but she kept a tight smile on her lips. "Just like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I should start packing. Since you're basically kicking me out of this place."

"I'm not kicking you out," Bruce shook his head vehemently, getting to his feet and crossing to her. "I want you to come with me."

She looked up at him coolly. "Right. That's why you've been sneaking around and hiding all of this from me. Because you want us to be together."

"I didn't want to say anything until I knew it was even going to work. I didn't want to get your hopes up for nothing."

"I never get my hopes up for anything, Bruce. If you knew anything about me, you'd know that." Selina rolled her eyes, turning away from him.

"I do know you." Bruce caught her arm, turning her back around to face him.

"Oh, really?" She laughed. "Tell me what you know."

"I know you've been taking my money and hiding it under your floorboards since we got here." It came out before Bruce could stop himself from saying it, his voice catching slightly in his throat, surprised how much it hurt to actually say out loud. He'd known about indiscretion for so long that he thought it may have finally lost its power. "Not a lot, not enough to where you thought I'd ever notice, but enough that you could just pack up and leave at any moment."

Selina masked the surprise that flashed behind her eyes at his seemingly long-standing knowledge of her betrayal with icy indifference. "Well, can you blame me? After you pull a stunt like this?"

"I would have just given you the money, Selina." He shook his head angrily. "I'd would have given you anything, if you'd just asked. I thought you knew that by now."

"Maybe I've just been lied to by too many rich assholes to believe you." She shrugged, her voice belying a hard bitterness constructed from decades of disappointment.

Bruce looked at her evenly. "Fine. Then here's my proposition. I want to split the money from the offshore account 50/50. No matter what you decide. If you want to stay in London and take your chances, fine. If you want to go off by yourself, that's fine too. But I want you to have half the money. So you don't have to do this to the next person who's stupid enough to care about you."

Selina met his gaze, echoing his detached tone. "How much?"

"Fifty million dollars."

She ran her tongue over her lips. Talk about a new start. "Split between us?"

"No. That would just be your share."

She swallowed hard. "And you'd just give it to me and walk away? No strings attached?"

"If that's what you want."

"What else would I want?" she said cruelly, humiliation over being caught and hurt over him abandoning her combining into vindictive anger.

Bruce shook his head, looking disgusted with himself. "Nothing. I…I was an idiot. I actually…I actually let myself believe, just for a moment, that the last few months meant something to you. That you might actually want to leave with me tomorrow. That it would be your idea to stay together."

"Well, wake up, honey. I'm not that kind of girl." Her shaking voice betrayed her slightly, but her words seemed to sting him just the same.

Bruce threw his hands up. "Then what the hell have we even been doing here? Why didn't you just take the two million and run all those nights I was passed out on painkillers?"

"I figured I'd wait around for a bigger payout."

"You're lying." Bruce was studying her face so closely she could practically feel his gaze burning into her skin. "There's more to you than that. There's more to this. You came back…that day, in Gotham. You saved my life. You wouldn't have bothered if you didn't—"

"If I didn't, what? _Love_ you?" She spat the word out of her mouth as though it was poisonous. "Get a grip, Bruce."

"Then why did you come back that day?"

She rubbed her forehead wearily. "I don't know. Maybe I thought…I thought I could believe you. Believe in what you saw in me. Find something good in myself. But that's just it, Bruce. I'm not a good person. I never will be. I've proved that to you over and over. And if we stayed together, I'd keep proving it. I don't know how to stop looking out for myself, because no one else ever sticks around long enough to make me believe I have other options. Something _you_ just proved."

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Help me understand something. How is me giving you fifty million dollars _not_ looking out for you?"

Selina opened and closed her mouth, momentarily stymied. He seized her momentary silence as an opportunity.

"If we split up, it would just be because we're both running scared. Because we both know this is actually going somewhere, and we don't want to face it."

"Did you ever think maybe you're assuming too much?" She echoed his words to her that night at the masquerade ball, both unable to help smiling slightly in remembrance.

"You know what?" Bruce reached out, his hand on her cheek. "Take a day. Think it over. Tomorrow night, we'll get dinner, and you can tell me what you decide."

"What exactly are my options again?" She raised an eyebrow.

"An end." He dropped his hand from her cheek. "Or the beginning."

"Don't be all vague and poetic when there's this much on the line, Bruce."

"Fine. You either cut your losses, take the fifty million and go off on your own, and we never see each other again. Or you leave with me, the hundred million goes into a joint account, and we take the risk and give whatever this is a real chance. Together."

Selina nodded. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Bruce nodded back.

She crossed her arms over her chest, licking her lips, trying to think of anything to fill the awkward silence between them. Finally— "I'll just sleep in my room, then."

Bruce shrugged. "Sleep wherever you want."

"Bruce…"

"What?" He snapped.

Selina pressed her lips together, her dark eyes suddenly very sad, seeming to force herself into some kind of hard-won conclusion. "N-Nothing. Never mind."

"All right. I'll…I'll see you for dinner tomorrow then."

"Right." She nodded, privately thinking that it would be pretty difficult to avoid each other all day when they shared a two-bedroom, one-bath apartment. Selina went to her room, laying on top of the covers and staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep and unaware that Bruce was doing the exact same thing.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, ma'am, but we're completely booked for the evening." The maitre'de gave her a snooty little smile, indicating the rain pouring down on the terrace. "Unless you'd like to sit outside."

"You're hilarious. Really." Selina rolled her eyes.

"She's with me. Reservation for two, under Peters."

Selina turned towards the ornately carved wooden doors at the front of the lavish French restaurant Bruce had selected for what could be their last meal together to see him walking inside, shaking out his umbrella, the shoulders of his black wool coat soaked. The storm was growing worse by the minute, the rain practically falling sideways.

"You're here." Selina greeted him bluntly.

"Yes. Survived the deluge." Bruce shook his head, instinctively leaning in to kiss her cheek but seeming to change his mind halfway, going for a hug instead, Selina stiffly patting his shoulder as they basically just bumped their chests into each other like a couple of clumsy work colleagues who overestimated being at the "hugging" phase of a friendship.

They stepped away from each other afterwards, inwardly berating themselves for not being able to play it cool. Both Bruce and Selina were used to being able to negotiate high-pressure social situations for a living. But tonight was different. Tonight wasn't about Selina charming her way into the inner sanctum of a gullible mark or Bruce closing a deal with millions on the line—it was easy to smile and fake it when they could hide behind the masks of a brainless socialite or eccentric billionaire. But there were no masks to hide behind here— and the thought terrified them both, reducing them to acting like skittish teenagers in each other's presence. But if the maitre'de thought they were behaving oddly for a supposedly happily married couple, he made no comment about it.

"Ah, yes, here we are." The maitre'de looked up from scanning the list with his finger. "Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Peters?"

"That's us."

"Is tonight a special occasion, Mr. Peters?"

"You could say that." Bruce nodded, Selina examining her "husband" more closely now that they'd survived their awkward greeting. He had finally gotten a haircut and shaved off his vacation beard, and was wearing an immaculately tailored all-black suit. She didn't know if it was because for the last three months he'd mostly lounged around the house in sweatpants and a Paul Bunyan beard, but in Selina's opinion, tonight was the handsomest he'd ever looked.

"I'll alert the hostess that you're here. Shall I take your coats?"

"Yes, thank you." Bruce took off his coat before turning to Selina. "Honey? Your coat?"

"Sure thing." Selina purred, deciding to have a little fun with him. She slowly slid her red jacket off her shoulders, staring right at Bruce as she revealed her new dress. He swallowed hard, unable to help briefly looking her up and down. She was wearing a skintight black lace dress that hugged her body so well that it seemed to cause him to lapse into a momentary stupor. The dress had a very low cut neckline that barely revealed the edges of her red push-up bra, and even when Bruce tried not to stare and look somewhere else, he found himself preoccupied with her mile-long legs, picturing how she would look _only_ wearing those knee-high leather boots…maybe they were the ones with the razor blade heels…

"You like the dress?" Selina put her hands on her hips, cutting into Bruce's increasingly inappropriate thoughts.

"Not bad." Bruce smiled.

"Well, you don't look so bad yourself." She smiled a little nervously back, initial awkwardness changing into a very different kind of tension as they just stared at each other for a long moment.

The maitre'de cleared his throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Peters? Your coats?"

"Yeah, thanks." Bruce vaguely waved him off, handing him their coats. "And, uh…don't feel the need to hurry back."

The maitre'de nodded, walking away at his oddly efficient clip and leaving Bruce and Selina alone in the front entrance.

"Should we try that first greeting again?" Selina asked.

Bruce laughed. "Whatever you say. Do you want me to go back outside?"

"That won't be necessary." She looked up at him with a slow smile. "Hi, honey."

"Hello, Mrs. Peters." Bruce gently moved her long dark hair back over one shoulder, leaning down and catching her off guard when he pressed his lips against the side of her neck instead of her mouth, Selina's eyes sliding closed, her whole body shuddering slightly at the feeling of his lips against the thin skin right below her jaw.

"What are you doing?" she whispered softly.

"Just happy to see you." He pulled back to look at her, and before she had time to hide it, he thought he saw a brief flash of honest affection in her eyes, the same way she'd looked at him before their last kiss in Gotham, and Bruce couldn't help the sudden, hopeful thought that flashed through his mind—

_We're still in this together. _

"Mr. and Mrs. Peters?"

Bruce and Selina reluctantly stepped apart at the sound of the hostess' voice, turning to see a pretty blonde girl smiling brightly at them both, indicating they should follow her. "Right this way. Best seat in the house. For your…anniversary?"

"Sure." Bruce and Selina gave the waitress identical shrugs.

The interior of the restaurant was candlelit and undeniably romantic, and their secluded corner table was even more so, with green velvet seating and gold-leaf accents. Everything about the place had an intimate, hidden quality that seemed perfect for a married couple with something to celebrate.

Bruce pulled out Selina's chair for her, and she muttered her thanks, taking her seat and wondering what exactly Bruce's game was here. Why had he picked this place? Why would he do everything in his power to make this feel like a date? Was he trying to make her feel guilty? Or just laughing at her? She had no idea, and couldn't discern anything from his maddeningly pleasant expression as he sat down across from her.

They managed to avoid the hundred million dollar elephant in the room with stilted small talk through appetizers, picking at their food but polishing off nearly half a bottle of wine, nerves making both of them drink more than they usually would. But finally, after they were served their main course, Bruce summoned up his courage and brought up the topic that had been hanging heavily between them all night.

"So have you given my proposal anymore thought?"

Selina looked up at him. "Yes. Of course I have."

It took everything in him not to prod her with _"And…?" _but he sat in silence, waiting her out. Selina sighed, tucking her long dark hair behind her ears. "Honestly, Bruce, I've been going back and forth about this all day. And you should know, it's never been this hard before to…"

"To what?" He reached out, his hand over hers.

"Cut and run."

"Then don't. Stay with me." Bruce abandoned dignity altogether, deciding if he didn't lay everything out there tonight, he wouldn't get another chance. And there was a part of him that knew— that _had_ known for a long time— that he could never truly be happy with anyone but her.

"Say that I do. Say that I do stay with you." Selina shook her head, frustrated tears welling in her eyes. "What's the ending of our story then, Bruce? Years go by and either we'll maintain just enough passion to start hating each other or we'll just get old and sexless and boring. I don't want to start hating you, and I really don't want to get and old and sexless and boring. I mean, we're not exactly the types who would be happy holding hands in a retirement home fifty years from now."

"Then where do you see us fifty years from now? Still dressing up in leather costumes and swinging from rooftops? That's over, Selina. We left that behind when we left Gotham behind."

"Bullshit." Selina shook her head, her eyes narrowed. "We may have gotten a clean slate, but it didn't change who we are underneath. You're still the good guy. I'm still a crook. No matter how you spin it, we're fundamental opposites, baby." She took a long sip of her wine, swallowing as a tear slid down her cheek. "Don't confuse staving off loneliness with finding your soulmate."

"Stop it." Bruce's hand tightened over hers. "This has nothing to do with me being lonely. I've been lonely most of my life. I'd be just fine on my own again. I don't want you to go with me just to have someone there. I want you to go with me because…because I love you, Selina."

Selina looked down, her other hand covering her eyes, her thin shoulders starting to shake with holding in tears. "Please…please don't say that."

"It's the truth."

"I can't do this." She abruptly pulled her hand away, wiping off her cheeks and getting to her feet. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm sorry for taking your cash and trying to hide it. And I'm sorry for leaving like this, but…you'll thank me for leaving someday, believe me. Someday, when you're married to some nice, normal girl with a couple of kids and I just have to hide in the shadows and watch you be happy while I just stand by and hate her for making you happier than I ever could, then, if you even still think about me, you'll realize I really did do you a big fucking favor." Selina caught her breath, noticing that people were starting to stare. "And I'm rambling. So I'm gonna go. So…goodbye." She walked away with impressive speed for a woman in six-inch heels, still graceful even in her misery, leaving the restaurant and attempting to disappear into the storm, Bruce hastily throwing two hundreds on the table and following after her.

Selina crossed her arms over her chest, shivering and miserable in the pouring rain, her heels click-clacking on the cobblestoned path down the alleyway she had taken for a shortcut back to the apartment. The streets were quiet and empty on either side of the alleyway, and she was grateful. She wanted to be alone, and she needed to move fast. She needed to beat Bruce home so she could get her things and be gone before he could say or do anything else that would make her want to stay with him more than she already did.

She would just disappear. Like always. Disappearing was the only thing she'd ever been good at. Tears were still streaming down her face as she tried to reassure herself this was all for the best. He was the only man who'd ever meant anything to her and here she was still ruining everything. Love didn't fix anything, Selina thought glumly. It just made everything so much worse.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?"

Selina looked up at the unfamiliar, heavily Cockney-accented voice. There was a man standing in her way at the end of the alley, and she had been so lost in thoughts she'd nearly run right into him. She didn't bother responding, just forcing a tight smile and attempting to walk by him. But he didn't budge, reaching under his jacket and shoving the barrel of a revolver against her stomach. "Give me the purse, and I won't empty this into ya. The earrings too. And the bracelet."

"Fuck you." Selina scoffed automatically.

"Watch your mouth, you stupid slag. Or my friends over there—" he cocked his head towards the other end of the alley, where a group of four men were blocking the only way out, smiling and laughing with excitement as they watched their boss in action, "They'll take turns holding you down while my whole gang fucks ya bloody, and then we'll shoot ya in places that'll make your death come real slow."

Selina affixed a terrified expression on her face, still upset enough about what had happened with Bruce that it wasn't too difficult to get her lower lip to tremble with fear. "Please…please don't hurt me. I'll give you anything you want." She handed over her purse with shaking hands. "See? I'll cooperate."

"I know you will." The man smiled, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. He lifted his hand, snapping his fingers to signal the rest of the boys should come and join them. "It's five against one, sweetheart. Don't struggle. You'll just make it worse." He handed off the purse to one of his minions. "Now the bracelet and earrings."

"And then you'll let me go?"

"Sure, of course."

She handed over her diamond bracelet and earrings, pretending to be surprised when two of his stiffs caught her by the arms. "Wait, what are you doing? You said—"

"I lied, love. You really shouldn't take the word of thieves as the bloody gospel." He stepped closer, touching her cheek. "And you know what? Fight back all you like. It gets me so hard when you birds struggle."

Selina sighed, muttering under her breath in her true voice. "Why does that _not_ surprise me?" Before the men could even react to the sudden change in her demeanor, she wrenched her arms free and kicked the gun out of her primary attacker's hand, spinning around and slashing the razor blade heel of her other boot across his face before swinging her arm back to elbow one minion in the face hard enough to break his nose before turning on the other three.

But suddenly she realized it wasn't just three men waiting for her anymore. There were at least ten more men now, in groups of five at either end of the alley. This wasn't just a group of idiot drunks. This had all the earmarks of a gang initiation, where the new guy was supposed to rape and mug the first unlucky girl they stumbled upon to prove his mettle with the new crew.

Selina's mind was suddenly flooded with a very unpleasant memory very similar to this moment. She'd been so young then, surrounded by a group of men who were looking at her just like this, like she was an animal to be tied up and tortured for their amusement. But she wasn't that scared little girl anymore. Far from it. She'd fight to the death before she'd go through something like that again. Selina's hands clenched into fists, her heart pounding in her throat as the men moved closer, encircling her, the stench of stale alcohol from their clothes and breath making her disgusted and angry, her body humming with energy as she prepared for battle.

When the first man finally lunged towards her, she lashed out, clawing him across the face with her fingernails as someone else grabbed her hair from behind, dragging her backwards and slamming her head against the brick wall of the alley. Selina's vision swam alarmingly as she continued to fight against them, knowing the most important thing in a fight where she was this badly outnumbered was just to stay on her feet. But victory started to seem more and more impossible, even as she flipped and kicked and twisted out of their grasp time and time again. If only she could somehow climb up…if only she had her weapons belt…but she didn't. She had nothing. She had gotten distracted, surrendered to her feelings for Bruce for just a moment, and that one moment of emotional weakness had left her open for an attack.

And now she would pay the price. Dazed and disoriented from multiple blows to head but determined as ever, Selina looked up at her nearest attacker, her upper lip curling into a snarl. If she was going down, she was damn sure going down with a fight.

But suddenly she wasn't fighting them off alone. With a black blur and a roar of fury, a new arrival took out her nearest attacker, slamming him into the brick wall so hard the man crumpled to the ground, unable to form more than a gurgling of protest as his mouth flooded with blood.

Somewhere in her addled brain, Selina registered that the Batman was here, he was fighting beside her again. He wasn't wearing the cape or the cowl, but this merciless attacker and vigilant protector certainly wasn't Bruce Wayne anymore. He had become his alter ego entirely, fighting for her so fiercely that several of the men at the back of the group started to slink away with fear.

His arrival awakened the fight in Selina as well, and she pushed off of the wall, no longer a victim weakened by pain, but The Cat, fighting them off two at a time, the former Mr. and Mrs. Peters shedding their masks of pleasant domesticity and embracing the dark, violent fury that had been barely contained and hidden by their fancy clothes and false smiles. They worked beautifully together, backing each other up and assisting each other's attacks without a word exchanged between them, instinct guiding their every movement until the group of thirteen men lay in an unconscious heap at their feet.

Bruce and Selina looked at each other when it was all over, both breathing hard, Bruce stripping off his jacket, Selina's chest heaving up and down with each shallow breath, so much adrenaline pounding through their systems that it was impossible to think, impossible to question anything, still relying on animal instincts to guide their next move.

"Better than sex?" She grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him to her.

"Let's see." Bruce growled, Selina crushing her mouth against his as they stumbled backwards, the kiss growing even more desperate as he pushed Selina up againt the brick wall, their tongues tangling together, Bruce pinning her hands flat against the wall over her shoulders with her own, Selina lacing her fingers through his, sighing against his mouth as passion became necessity. They didn't just want this anymore, they needed it like oxygen, practically devouring each other as Bruce pushed up her skirt to rip off her underwear before he lifted her into his arms, Selina hurriedly undoing his pants and wrapping her legs around his waist as they abandoned all common decency and fucked right there in the alleyway. It had never been like this with them. There was nothing nice or sweet or romantic about anything they were doing. It was fast and dirty and brazenly public, Bruce thrusting into her hard against the wall, Selina practically panting against his mouth as they raced each other to an orgasm, Bruce silencing her strangled cry of passion when he kissed her at the end, a long, deep kiss that changed everything. Afterwards, Bruce looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire as he smoothed down her hair with one hand, Selina's usually immaculately straightened hair gone appealingly messy and wavy from the rain, her hand on her cheek as she looked back at him, neither able to find the right words to express out loud what they both finally understood.

This was who they really were. This was what they were meant for. And the only person who could ever truly understand this side of them was in their arms.

Bruce let out a long breath. "So do you finally believe me?"

"About what?"

"I don't _want_ a nice, normal girl."

"I believe you." Selina smiled peacefully down at him as they both reluctantly came back down to earth. "So when's our flight out of here?"

"You're coming with me?" Bruce helped her back down to her feet, watching Selina pull down her skirt and stuff her ripped red thong into her purse.

"Only if you promise we can fight off a gang of thugs together at least once a week."

Bruce tried to smother his smile. "Never a shortage of thugs, I've found."

"Then I'm in." Selina took his hand, leading him out of the end of the alleyway away from the sound of approaching sirens and calmly hailing a cab as if fighting off thirteen guys before getting it on in an alleyway to celebrate was the most normal thing in the world.

Selina in a skintight dress seemed to make a very appealing potential customer to the London cabbies, and she nearly caused a car accident when two cabs tried to pull over to their same curb. As the two cabbies cussed each other out, Bruce and Selina selected their ride, Bruce opening the door for her. Selina smoothed down his lapels before getting inside. She leaned forward, kissing him softly with a small smile on her lips. "Happy anniversary, Mr. Peters."

"The first of many, Mrs. Peters." He smiled back, following her into the cab as Selina gave the cabbie the address of their apartment so they could get their things before leaving for the airport.

The driver seemed to be fairly adept at taking a hint, and after glancing at the way his passengers were sitting in the rearview mirror, Bruce's arm around the back of Selina's seat as he spoke softly into her ear, Selina smiling slyly in response as her hand slid higher up his thigh, the driver put up the partition and turned up the radio.

Bruce and Selina were both still just drunk enough—on way too much vintage wine, on the adrenaline rush of a good fight, on the hazy aftermath of mind-blowing sex, and most of all, on the unexpected promise of a future together— to kiss the whole way home.

A/N- Until Chapter Three! Next time—Bruce introduces Selina to the high life in Paris, Selina starts to come clean about her past, and Bat Cat decide that using their very specialized skills to fight foreign crime isn't just great foreplay—it's a way of life. Thanks so much for reading. Reviews make my day!


	3. Enter the Shadows

A/N- Thank you all so much for your feedback and support! I hope you enjoy this chapter- the lyrics are from "Shadows" by Red.

Pieces

Chapter Three

_There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master_

_I tried to save you, but I can't find the answer_

_I'm holding onto you, I'll never let go_

_I need you with me as I enter the shadows_

"_Bonjour_, Miss Reisler." The doorman looked up from his newspaper with a smile.

"_Bonjour_." Selina smiled back, taking off her enormous designer sunglasses. They had set her back about what she would have paid for two months' rent back in Gotham, and she had to stifle her middle-class shame every time she wore them. But while Bruce's cover was not much of stretch for him— a rich American businessman—Selina was having to adjust to playing his very well to do live-in girlfriend. She had to keep reminding herself that these sunglasses were a necessary expense. If she was wearing a ten-euro pair from the drugstore, their fellow occupants of one of the most exclusive buildings in Paris might grow a little suspicious. She made her way onto the elevator, typing in her building access code and then the button marked "PH" with the perfectly manicured red nail on her right pointer finger before turning to one of the mirrored walls and staring at her own reflection critically.

The woman staring back at her, Samantha Reisler, her current cover, had everything Selina Kyle had once taken such meticulous pains to pretend she had. But not anymore. No more returning expensive dresses the morning after a party, no more costume jewelry—she had now fully become the kind of woman that she once would have targeted to rob. Every time she stopped to think about the kind of life she and Bruce had now, Selina felt an odd combination of relief followed immediately by guilt. She never had to worry about money again, never had to go to bed hungry, or plan for her next big score. But without all of that, who was she here? What was her purpose? She wasn't exactly sticking it to the one percent, like she'd always planned back in Gotham.

_Oh, you poor little rich girl_, Selina rolled her eyes, suddenly wanting to kick her own ass for feeling sorry for herself while riding up to a penthouse in Paris. She was starting to understand why rich people needed so much therapy—they had way too much to think about themselves.

The elevator pinged with its arrival to the top floor, and she stepped out to the small entryway and typed in the second access code to get into the apartment. The doors opened right to their main living area. There was music playing from the surround sound speakers, some weird French rap song that Selina didn't recognize.

"Bruce?" She found him on a yoga mat in front of the television, finishing up his daily back rehab exercises, the last of which involved lying on his stomach and lifting his upper body and legs off the floor simultaneously. The exercises always looked a little silly, but especially today when they were being performed to the beat of pretentious French rapping. "What's with the music?"

"Three more." Bruce didn't seem to hear her question, grunting with effort as he finished up, relaxing back to the floor after a moment. Once he was done, he sat up to look at her, turning down the music before rotating his shoulders to either side to stretch out his back. "I am still not convinced any of this is helping."

"The doctor said it would take awhile." Selina opened her purse, tossing him his refilled Naproxen prescription. "Here. Party it up, baby."

"Thanks." Bruce shook out two pills into his palm, downing them with a gulp from his bottled water.

"How are you feeling?"

"Uh…mostly just stiff today." Bruce climbed to his feet, stretching out his arms over his head. He wouldn't look at her when he answered her question, and Selina knew he was lying. He was still in pain, a lot of it judging by how slow and gingerly he was moving. One of the idiot thugs from their alleyway encounter in London had aggravated Bruce's back injury with a well-timed blow from the heel of his boot that had knocked Bruce's still-healing vertebra back out of alignment.

Bruce had been so high on adrenaline after the fight and the reconciliation with Selina that he hadn't really noticed the injury until they woke up to their first morning in Paris. He had stubbornly tried to play it off and refused to go to the doctor until the back pain was so bad he was nearly in tears trying to get up in the morning. They'd now been in Paris for a month and a half, and Selina could tell that the glacial (for Bruce) speed of his recovery was making him so restless he was about to start crawling the walls.

"So what are we listening to?" Selina asked, still confused about Bruce's sudden predilection for what was proving to be very mediocre foreign hip-hop.

"It's actually a guy who lives in our building. Thought I'd listen to it in case I run into him again. He's some kind of French rap star. I mean, according to him. Talks about his money way too much to really have made it though—just seems like a dumb kid with a record deal."

Selina raised a suspicious eyebrow. She was starting to form a pretty good guess as to why Bruce was so sore today. "Where'd you meet him?"

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, his brain suddenly freezing up when he tried to think of a lie. Finally, he settled on the truth but decided to say it in the most "no-big-deal" tone possible. "Well, I, uh…I went to the gym this morning…"

"Damn it, Bruce!" Selina shook her head with fury, looking fully prepared to knock another one of his vertebra out of place. "How is that _not _exerting yourself? The doctor said to take it easy!"

Bruce hit his fist against the wall. "I am taking it easy! I'm taking it so easy I'm about to lose my mind, Selina!"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. If she were in his position, she'd be going crazy too. She wasn't in pain everyday, and she still felt like she was going a little crazy now that they had settled into a somewhat routine existence. "I know, honey. I get it. But you're just making it worse trying to rush things."

Bruce let out a frustrated breath, turning away from her and leaning against a panel of their floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at their stunning view of the Eiffel Tower. "I guess you were right about me getting old and boring. Your timeline was just off by about fifty years."

"Bruce." Selina walked up behind him, sliding her arms around him, resting her hands on his chest. She kissed the back of his neck, speaking softly with her lips against his skin. "You are _not_ old and boring."

"Right." Bruce snorted with derision, clearly just determined to be in a bad mood. Selina didn't know if it was the meds, or just being cooped up so much, but Bruce seemed to be stuck in a state of perpetual melancholia since they'd arrived in France. "That's why you never want to have sex with me anymore."

Selina stepped away from him, her brow furrowed with confusion. "We had sex like three days ago."

"Yeah, and you looked bored to tears the entire time." Bruce grumbled.

"I was not bored! I was just…you seemed really into it, and I didn't want you to get carried away and…"

"What? Hurt myself?" He looked outraged, his cheeks flushed with humiliation.

"Well, yeah! It's pretty much my fault you hurt your back again when we were fighting off those guys in London, and when we…you know, in the alleyway, instead of taking you to a doctor…I'm sure I just made it worse, and I've felt so guilty about it ever since. Now you have to do all these exercises and like pop pills by the handful to even function, and I feel like it's all my fault."

"It wasn't your fault." Bruce sighed. "Besides, what was I supposed to do? Let those lowlifes beat you to a bloody pulp?"

_They would have done much worse than that if you hadn't shown up, _Selina thought to herself. It always fascinated her that Bruce was so well traveled and educated, but still seemed to have a certain innocence in the way he looked at the world. Must be the whole hero thing. Or maybe sheltered rich kid syndrome. Or maybe both. "No. I mean, of course I'm grateful you showed up. But what we did after...it was stupid. And I feel like this terrible person who forced you into this brawl and then jumped you in an alleyway when your back was basically broken all over again."

"Those idiots didn't break anything." Bruce scoffed.

"Fine. When they re-aligned your vertebrae, then."

"I'll be fine."

"I know you will." She reached out, her hand on his shoulder. "I just don't think we should do any more…you know, _thrusting_, until you're better. Just in case. Every time we do, I just worry the whole time."

"Well, that's just what every guy wants to hear." Bruce shrugged out of her grasp, that stubbornly persistent sullen expression on his face as he sank into a chair by the window.

Selina just watched him thoughtfully for a moment. Poor guy looked like he was rapidly sinking into some kind of Heathcliffian depression. This called for more drastic measures than a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"You know…" Selina lowered her voice to a throaty whisper, leaning over the back of the chair and kissing the side of his neck. "There's other things we could do in the meantime…things I could do for you…"

"Because you feel sorry for me?" Bruce asked warily. He didn't entirely trust himself to turn her down even if that was the case, but it still seemed like he should at least pretend to be offended.

"No, you pretty much seem to have the whole 'feeling-sorry-for-Bruce-Wayne' thing covered." She appeared in front of him with a smooth, slinking motion, her hands resting over his on the arms of the chair as she leaned closer to him, smiling at his pouting expression. "Oh, you poor thing. Look at that lip…" she purred, kissing him and biting down on his bottom lip at the end, pulling back slightly until it hurt.

"Ow." Bruce protested, but she could tell he didn't really mind. Selina released his lip, her hands tangling in his hair as she leaned back in to kiss him more deeply before starting to work her way down his body with her lips, pushing up his t-shirt to kiss his bare chest and further down to his stomach. "Did you ever play doctor when you were a kid, Bruce?"

"Uh…" He was finding it hard to form words at the moment.

"It's okay, I'll show you how…" she mumbled against his skin, "Just tell me where it hurts…"

"Right now? A little lower," he groaned with the surge of arousal that made him shift in his chair when he felt her full lips, and even her tongue, sliding over the skin just above the waist of his jeans, the wooden arms of the chair creaking as his grip tightened.

"I thought you might say that," Selina smiled as she unzipped his jeans, the French rap music still playing in the background, the pulsing bass seeming to pound inside his chest, everything starting to feel hazy and dreamlike as Bruce looked out the window at the Eiffel Tower, his eyes sliding shut with pleasure when she took him fully in her mouth, memories of the restlessness and dissatisfaction that had plagued him since they'd arrived suddenly seeming very far away and unimportant…

_Forget the pills_. _And rehab. _Bruce thought to himself. Right now, he could barely remember why he'd ever needed anything but her at all.

"Well, well. And after you always act…so nice and innocent about this kind of thing." Selina breathed out after Bruce returned the favor in bed that night. He emerged from beneath the sheets to lie down beside her afterwards, looking adorably, boyishly pleased with himself, Selina's breathing still shallow from the rush of an orgasm. "I think I almost broke the headboard." Selina grinned, looking up to where she'd been grasping the bars while he more than made up for his bad mood of earlier.

"Careful. We're just renting this place." Bruce grinned sleepily, feeling much better now that he had concrete proof that he wasn't a complete failure as a man.

"So we lose our deposit. Big deal." She snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder as she gently traced her nails across his stomach and chest.

They lay there in a contented silence for a moment before Bruce pressed his lips against her sweaty temple, muttering his next words into her dark hair. "I love you."

Selina froze. He hadn't said it again since their ill-fated dinner date in London, and she couldn't exactly run away this time. There was an unbearably awkward pause as Bruce nervously waited, his muscles tensed so tightly he seemed to be readying himself for a physical (or in this case, emotional) assault, as Selina tried to form the words she had felt for so long but still couldn't seem to say.

Or maybe she could, she thought, looking up at him, taking in the face she woke to every morning, the face she had practically memorized by now. This was Bruce. The man she had finally let in and allowed to become her confidante, lover, best friend…everything. He had never done anything to hurt her. Maybe she really could trust him enough.

"Bruce, I…"

There was a sudden pounding on their door. Bruce and Selina both looked towards the living room, completely disoriented by the ill-timed interruption. Selina sat up, her cheeks slightly flushed, reaching over to check her cell phone on the bedside table. "It's after midnight. Who the hell…"

The knocking continued, even more insistently. Bruce got to his feet, pulling on his boxers and t-shirt. "I'll see who it is. Stay here."

"No way." Selina grabbed her white silk robe, throwing it on over her shoulders and tying the sash at her waist. "I'm coming with you."

Bruce didn't protest further, and they both silently approached the door, Bruce peering through the peephole. He looked back to Selina, perplexed. "It's that guy I told you about. The rapper. He's with some girl. What do you think they want?"

"Drugs. Booze. To kill you for your money." Selina whispered back. "Take your pick."

The knocking started again, so loud it seemed to echo through their cavernous apartment. Bruce sighed with annoyance, throwing open the door to reveal the pasty white face and bleached blond hair of Bastien Seydoux, the new artist of the moment in France at the moment and a grade-A douchebag for all time. The supermodel pretty girl on his arm barely looked old enough to drive, let alone be dating a guy in his mid-thirties. Bastien looked high out of his mind, as Selina predicted, his pupils enormous and expression slightly dazed.

"How can we help you?" Bruce asked in his stern manager voice, Selina smiling. She found it so sexy when he talked to people like that. She wondered if she could ever convince him to incorporate the manager voice into their sex life. Something with bondage, maybe…

_Whoa, there. _Selina shook her head, wondering what Bruce would think if he ever knew all the fantasies she created around him. Probably best that he didn't. He was still healing; there was no need to torture the guy. Besides, even though she did feel guilty about contributing to his current back-pain predicament, the memory of their alleyway encounter had gotten her through many a sex-free night when Bruce would pass out next to her, mumbling in his sleep through a haze of barbiturates.

The rapper's annoying French accent cut into her very satisfying fantasy as he went on, seeming a little too desperate for Bruce's approval in Selina's opinion."I just wanted to see how you liked the music. You and your…"

"My girlfriend. Samantha." Bruce indicated that Selina join them. "Samantha, this is Bastien Seydoux and—"

"My girlfriend, Natalia." Bastien tightened his grip around Natalia's bony shoulders. "Say hi, Nat. To my boy James and his very pretty girlfriend."

"Hi." The girl looked like a scared little bird, her eyes flitting from Bruce to Selina and then back to the floor.

"So did you like it? My demo?" Bastien pressed.

"Is there a reason we're having this conversation in the middle of the night?" Bruce asked.

Bastien looked down at his watch, letting out an unpleasant, squeaky laugh. "It's 12:30, grandpa. This is when the night gets _started_!"

Bruce sighed. "Look, we really don't have time for this…"

"Where is bathroom?" Natalia suddenly spoke up, revealing a very heavy Russian accent.

"Our bathroom? Don't you live right downstairs?" Selina looked between them skeptically. Something was off about this whole situation, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what.

"Party downstairs. Bathroom's a mess." Natalia shook her head vehemently. "Please, really I must."

Bruce and Selina exchanged a look. "Um, sure. Follow me." Selina led Natalia away from the men, Bastien eagerly trying to engage Bruce in further conversation about his demo as the girls left them to their own devices.

Selina turned the corner that led to their guest bath, indicating the door to the left. "It's just in there."

"Thank you." Natalia smiled, suddenly grabbing Selina's arm and pulling her with her into the bathroom.

Selina instantly grabbed Natalia's wrist to twist it to the edge of breaking, but Natalia reached out with her other hand to stop her. "Please, please, don't hurt me!' she said in a hushed whisper. "You must help me. He won't let me leave. I just want to go home."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Bastien…he is holding me here. Against my will. If he knows I told you, he will kill us both." Natalia blinked rapidly, tears filling her electric blue eyes. "Please, you must help me."

"Help you what?"

"We can't talk now. Go. Go back to them before he becomes suspicious." Natalia looked to the door with wide eyes, clearly terrified.

"Natalia—"

"You must go!" Natalia hissed, practically shoving Selina out the door and closing it behind her. Selina just stood there for a moment, stunned, pressing her lips together when she heard the soft sound of Natalia crying in their bathroom, sounding like the child she clearly was. But after Selina returned to Bruce and the Rapper/Kidnapper Extraordinaire, Natalia apparently pulled herself together. She came back out of the bathroom, letting Bastien put his arm back around her with that savagely tight grip.

"All right, well, next time I see you—I'll play you that new song." Bastien patted Bruce's cheek as though they were old, dear friends.

"Sure." Bruce smiled tightly, clearly not pleased with their present company.

"Goodnight, you two." Bastien smiled at them both. "Say goodnight, Nat."

"Goodnight." Natalia looked at Selina significantly before allowing herself to be dragged back to the elevator. As the oddly mismatched couple disappeared back behind the double doors, Bruce and Selina heard Bastien laughing too loudly at his own joke.

Bruce and Selina turned to each other the moment they were alone, both speaking emphatically at the same time and drowning out each other's words.

"You go first." Selina said.

"His new song is called 'Come On, Feel My Love Wand.' Would you have any problem with me punching that guy in the face?"

"None whatsoever." Selina stepped closer to him, lowering her voice as if they still might be overheard. "Little Miss Jailbait just told me he's holding her here against her will. She's been kidnapped."

"_What?_"

"I know. We have to help her."

Bruce nodded, trying not to look too enthused, both a little ashamed of how excited they were to have an opportunity to use their very specialized skills. "Tell me everything."

"Anything?" Bruce looked over Selina's shoulder as she watched their building's hacked security feed of the front lobby.

"No. He hasn't left yet." Selina yawned hugely. "You know, this would go much faster if we just busted down their door. You'd get to punch him in the face. I'd get Natalia out of there. Everybody wins."

"I think this may call for a more subtle approach. If we spook him, things could get even worse for her."

"So then we don't spook him. We take him out of commission for good."

"Selina. We're not killing anyone."

"Better that than just sitting here and leaving Natalia alone with that pervert." She glared at him. "She's just a kid, Bruce. And she needs our help."

"And we will help her. But not that way. Not the way that lands us on France's most wanted list." Bruce said sternly. "We won't be any help to Natalia from prison."

"There isn't a prison on this planet that I couldn't break us out of in twenty minutes or less." Selina rolled her eyes.

"You want a criminal record again? This time with murder charges?"

She sighed. "No."

Bruce suddenly pointed at the screen. "There. There he goes."

Selina turned to see Bastien walking through the lobby and out the front door of their building, wearing an Adidas tracksuit and gobs of ridiculous gold jewelry around his neck. "All right. That's my cue. Call my cellphone when he you see him come back."

"Will do. Be careful."

Selina nodded, grabbing her purse and hurrying out of the apartment, down the elevator to the eleventh floor, and finally to the door bearing the apartment number Bruce remembered from Bastien's gym keycard. She knocked softly on the door, whispering when she heard someone on the other side. "Natalia. It's Samantha."

Natalia opened the door, wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it that looked like it had been purchased from the children's department and baggy jeans that barely clung to her rail-thin hips. Her eyes filled with tears of relief at the sight of Selina as she ushered her in and closed the door behind them. "You came. I didn't even let myself hope…"

"We want to help you, Natalia. But we may not have much time. Tell me everything. Tell me how you ended up here."

"I am from…a small city outside of Moscow. I was going to school in the capital to learn English…maybe get job in America someday. But my family is very poor, and they could not afford my school anymore. I became…" she struggled for the right word for a moment, "…broke and come to France when I meet a man who tells me he can get me work as model. I think I will model and save up enough money to finish school. But it is not like that. He takes my passport. The little money I have left. And he give me to any man who pays the right price." Natalia's voice trembled slightly, her eyes glassy, but her expression oddly vacant. She was trying to distance herself from what she was saying. Selina knew that look, remembered it perfectly, feeling a growing rage within her as Natalia continued. "Sometimes he leave me in hotel room for days…many different men come to see me…and then he tells me that one of the men has bought me for his own. Bought for me for large amount of money, because he tells me he could charge more when I am pretty and have light hair. The man who buys me is Bastien. I tell him that I want to go home, but he does not listen. He does not care. I cry when he fucks me, and he hits me to make me stop. He force me to do things for his friends as well. They laugh like it is all a big joke. I am too afraid to go to police. He says if I try to leave him, he will kill me. He paid good money, he says. And besides, he says no one would miss me."

"Stop. Don't talk like that." Selina took Natalia's face in her hands. "I'm getting you out of here. And we're getting these lowlifes put away for life. Do you have any kind of information on the man who brought you to Paris?"

Natalia nodded. "I have the card he gave me when we first meet."

"Can I see it?"

"Of course. Give me one moment." Natalia smiled gratefully at Selina before disappearing into the main bedroom. Selina looked around the main room, wrinkling her nose at the scene before her. Natalia hadn't been kidding about a party last night. The air was still acrid with the smell of spilled alcohol and vomit. There were empty cups, stubbed out joints and razors still bearing the remnants of the white powder they'd been used to ration out, and, more disturbingly, used condom wrappers all over the living room floor. Stacks of porn DVDs surrounded the television. Real class act, this guy.

Natalia reappeared moments later with a creased and worn business card. It bore only a name, Gustave Ulrich, and a phone number starting with the two digit '01' denotation for Paris. "This is all he gave me."

"James and I will look into this. Are you going to be okay if it takes us a little time? Or do you need somewhere else to go? I'm sure there's a shelter or I could get you a room somewhere else…"

"No, no. It is Friday, so Bastien left for recording studio. At least an hour away. He always stays the weekend, working on music."

"So you think we have until Monday?"

"Yes. He will come back Monday morning."

Selina nodded. "I'll tell you when we find something. I'm sure it won't take us long."

Natalia stepped forward, hugging her tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't even know what else to say, but…you are like an angel to me."

Selina patted her shoulder. "I'll do everything I can. I…I get where you're coming from."

"You?" Natalia pulled away, looking confused. "You live with wonderful man. You seem happy. You have all the money in the world. How could you understand?"

"I've lived at least nine lives, kid. This is just one of them." Selina pressed her lips together for a moment. "I know what it's like to want more for yourself, and think you have no other option. But you do. You can turn things around. And I'm going to help you."

"I trust you." Natalia smiled, looking so young and hopeful that Selina swore to herself she wouldn't rest until this kid was safe.

"How old are you, Natalia?"

"Fifteen."

Selina's jaw set into a hard line. "I'll be back."

"Thank you again." Natalia said again, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"It's not going to be like this forever." Selina smiled at her. "You know…my boyfriend and I have the space, if you wanted to stay with us for the weekend…"

"Oh, no. I mean, that's very nice, but…Bastien calls home phone to check on me. And if I don't answer, he would be very angry."

"We could forward the calls…"

"No. No, he could find out. Or hear your boyfriend in the background. He would go crazy. I will stay here. Clean up. Bastien would not like it if he comes home to a mess. I stay here."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. I'll be back." Selina promised her, leaving with the business card that would hopefully lead to the snake who'd started this whole twisted story.

"The only record of a Gustave Ulrich is a guy from Canada who died in 1984." Bruce showed Selina the print-out from his computer.

"Well, clearly it's a fake name." She sighed, scanning Bastien's hacked financial records from her own computer.

"But I can't find it as an alias, a fake ID, anything…"

"What are you using to look?"

"Lucius created a computer program for Wayne Enterprises that runs names, photos, whatever you want, through all the law enforcement records of any given continent. I can still access the program, and I've searched everywhere. There's nothing."

"Shit." Selina rubbed her forehead wearily. "There's nothing on Bastien's records that connects him to this either. All of the withdrawls look legit. No payments to shell companies, no foreign accounts…it's going to be next to impossible to pin this on him with financial records this spotless. I bet he hired someone to cover this up. Someone good."

Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Did Natalia give you her last name? Maybe we could find them through a search on her."

"No, she didn't…but I mean, she's just a kid. I doubt she has a record or anything."

"How big was your file when you were her age?" Bruce raised his eyebrows teasingly, starting a new search with a different spelling of Gustave's name.

He didn't mean to offend her, but Selina's eyes went dark with anger. "Is this funny to you? A girl getting sold into sexual slavery is a joke?"

"N-No, I just meant…"

"I know what you meant. And I also know that it's really easy to judge a person when you've never had to struggle for anything in your life."

Now Bruce looked angry as well. "My parents were murdered right in front of me, Selina. You're not the only person who's ever known pain."

Selina looked at him for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I wasn't thinking. But, please…don't act like you know anything about my past just because you read some file. You don't know anything."

"I would if you'd tell me." Bruce set his computer aside. It was still performing the search on Gustave, and this was the closest he'd ever heard Selina come to telling him anything about her life before she became The Cat.

"What do you want to know?" Selina turned back to her computer, setting a keyword search for any of Bastien's financial records that had any connection to an online search or purchase. That was how most sickos found the girls these days.

"When was your first arrest?" Bruce asked. All her juvenile records had been expunged once Selina turned 26, and he hadn't been able to track them down no matter how hard he tried. Maybe it was time he just asked.

"I was thirteen."

"What were you arrested for?"

Selina swallowed hard, refusing to look away from her computer screen. "Solicitation. I was trying to make money for me and my sister, and three weeks in, I had the bad luck of running into an undercover cop."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"She's not in my life anymore. She didn't exactly…approve of my choices. And she actually ended up joining a convent."

Bruce's brow furrowed, trying to determine if Selina was making some kind of bizarre joke about her sister becoming a nun. But she looked completely serious.

"I did my time in juvi, and when I got out, I went right back to the streets. I didn't think I had a choice. My clientele changed as I got better at my job, and soon I was working some of the richest men in Gotham."

"How old were you then?"

"I was sixteen when I got out of it. I had a…a really bad night, and decided to learn a new trade. I spent a few years training and when I turned eighteen, I bought my costume, found myself a little start-up cash, and started doing jobs on my own. The rest, as they say, is history." Selina was saying all of this in a droll, emotionless voice, as if she was just relaying information, not reliving her past.

"What do you mean by a bad night?" Bruce knew he might be pushing his luck, but he felt like he had to know if they were ever going to move forward. Selina's eyes went cold and blank as she stared at her computer screen, lost in her own memories for a moment, lost in a night she had never revealed to anyone else.

Finally, she looked up to Bruce from where she was sitting on the floor. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I think you've been holding it inside for a long time. Because I think once you say something out loud, it starts to lose its power over you."

Selina turned back to her computer when it pinged with search results. Nothing. But she was grateful for the distraction regardless. "Maybe some other time, Bruce."

"Selina—"

"Why don't you put Natalia's picture into your database? I'm sure there's pictures of her online out with Bastien. Maybe you're right. Maybe it will bring something up." She abruptly changed the subject.

Bruce just nodded. He wanted to know more, but knew he had to wait until she wanted to tell him. "I'll give it a shot."

Selina nodded, starting a new search on her computer. After a moment, she looked up to see Bruce staring at his screen with a furrowed brow. "What is it?" she asked.

"I found Natalia. Or, the girl claiming to be Natalia."

"What does it say?"

Bruce looked a little nervous to relay his results. "Well, she wasn't kidnapped. And she's definitely not fifteen."

"What?"

"She's twenty-five. And it looks like she ran away from a town in Russia—Lobnya— ten years ago, to beat a juvenile drug charge. Her parents have been looking for her since 2002. Her and her brother. He was seven when they disappeared."

"What the hell?" Selina got to her feet, crossing to Bruce to look at his computer.

"It gets worse."

"What else?"

"It looks like she's gone through about five different names. And five different men, all of whom she cleaned out...and the last one who ended up dead."

"Holy shit." Selina peered closer at the mugshot Bruce had discovered. There was no denying it. "Natalia" was really a twenty-five year old one-time runaway named Aleksandra Baranovsky who was a suspect in a murder and wanted for the abduction of her underage brother Roman. Aleksandra had changed her appearance with each new identity, and her current bleached blond dye job had been done after she'd gone jet black for her last identity, in Sweden, that had ended in murder. "What do you think we should do?"

"Tell her…tell her we're getting close to nailing her 'abductor.' We need more time to plan our next move." Bruce sat back in his chair, looking up at Selina. "Unless you just want to send all of this to the police."

"No…let's wait." Selina shook her head. "I mean, we don't know the whole story yet. Let's not make any hasty decisions. Let me talk to her. Feel things out a little more."

"Okay." Bruce kept his expression neutral while secretly wondering if Selina might be hearing the siren call of her old lifestyle.

"What's wrong? You look weird."

_So much for a poker face_, Bruce thought to himself. "I just...don't over-identify here, Selina. She's clearly trying to cloud your judgment by playing the sweet little victim card. Who knows what else she'll try if she senses we're on to her?"

Selina waved him off. "She won't know we're on to anything. And if she tries to play me, I'll know. I manipulated my fair share of gullible millionaires over the years. I know all the tricks."

"Just watch your back. It says whoever killed the guy did it with a kitchen knife. Stabbed him fifty-two times."

"So, definitely an accident, then?" Selina grinned.

"Why are you smiling?" Bruce shook his head.

"I can't believe I almost just went from robber to robbee." Selina laughed to herself. "I'm going to go talk to her. Maybe you should look into the brother. He'd be seventeen now—maybe see if you can track him down?"

"Good idea." Bruce nodded, reaching out to catch her hand when Selina went to turn away. "Hey. Do you want me to come with you?"

"We won't find out anything if you do. I've got a funny feeling she's not too fond of strange rich men. And now we know what she does when she's not too fond of someone."

"I know, just..." Bruce's grip tightened on her hand. "Are you sure you'll be all right alone?"

"I don't feel alone. Not anymore." Selina didn't know why she said it. She certainly had never said anything even bordering on sentimental before. It just came out of her, unbidden.

But Bruce didn't seem as taken aback as Selina by the statement. He just smiled, touched. "Neither do I."

"All right, all right." She pulled her hand away, laughing nervously. "Call me if you need me."

Bruce watched her go for a moment before returning to his work on the computer, cross-referencing known associates of Aleksandra to see if he could track down her little brother. He felt bad for the kid—it wasn't as if he had any choice in the kind of life he'd shared with his sister. She had chosen it for him when he was only a child. Just like Bruce had never felt like he had a choice when his parents were taken away. He had to fight back against the evil in the city that had killed them. Roman probably felt like he had to be a criminal. But Bruce had gotten out of Gotham. Maybe he could show Roman there was always another choice.

"Natalia?" Selina found the apartment door wide open, cautiously stepping inside. Bastien's apartment was now bleached-clean and spotless. Almost eerily so, considering its state this morning. "I have good news." She searched every room, finding no sign of Aleksandra, no sign a woman had ever even lived there at all, before returning to the main room, standing in the kitchen and scanning the apartment for any sign of movement. "We think we may have found Gustave."

The door to the apartment suddenly slammed shut, and Selina felt the sharp, cool steel of a knife at her throat, Aleksandra appearing behind her with such practiced efficiency that Selina couldn't help but be impressed. "Let's cut the bullshit." Aleksandra hissed into her ear. "You have not found Gustave. Because there is no Gustave. You and Bruce discovered this more quickly than I anticipated. Oh well. Your boyfriend makes much better mark than Bastien anyhow."

_Bruce?_ Selina felt a stab of panic, suddenly remembering Natalia hugging her when she'd been visited earlier. _She must have planted some kind of listening device on me. She heard everything Bruce and I just said. Damn. I am out of practice._

"So now you know who I am." Aleksandra stroked Selina's hair gently, still pressing the knife against her throat, Selina noticing that Aleksandra was still wearing the yellow rubber gloves she'd presumably worn to clean the apartment. "And I know who you are. Selina Kyle. The Cat. The greatest con artist of our time—even going so far as to track down and work Bruce Wayne after he's been presumed dead. Now that takes ingenuity. You are the inspiration for everything I've ever done. Tell me, please. Have you enjoyed my work so far? Do you have any…how do you say it…_pointers_, for me? For next time?"

"There's not going to be a next time, Aleksandra." Selina said quietly. "You need to get out of this life."

"No. I will never stop. But you will help me get out of France. Me and my brother."

"Look—" Selina sighed.

"You will help us. Because if he does not hear from me within one hour, my brother will release the information we both now know to every major news site on the Internet. Security footage from the lobby of this building of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, still alive and well, and your exact location. I'm sure Gotham will want its Golden Boy back. I've read they're having problems again. And Blackgate Prison will want Inmate #4478 back where she belongs. Something tells me your many crimes will warrant extradition."

"Nice try, sweetheart. But I wiped my record clean." Selina seized Aleksandra's wrist, catching her off guard and knocking the knife out of her hands and high into the air, Selina doing a front aerial into the splits to catch the knife by the handle the second before it hit the ground. She gracefully folded in her legs, pushing up and turning back to Aleksandra to calmly slide the knife back into its place in the rack on the kitchen counter. "Now will you call your brother off so we can have a more civilized conversation? Or do I need to _inspire_ you further?"

"Wait." Aleksandra's bright blue eyes narrowed with a dawning realization. "If you have no record…why do you care if the location goes public? You'd still have time finish the job and clean Bruce out before they drag him back to Gotham. I'd help you."

"Bruce isn't going anywhere. And neither are you. Make the damn phone call." Selina moved closer, lightly skimming her fingers across the knife rack as if selecting her weapon her choice.

Aleksandra's expression hardened further. "You don't actually _love_ him, do you?"

When Selina made no denial, she could practically feel the icy rage spreading through Aleksandra's body. She had never seen a person look so furious, Aleksandra's bright blue eyes now narrowed into slits and her small hands clenched into fists. "Selina. I must tell you. You giving up your entire life for the sake of a man is _extremely_ disappointing to me. Maybe…maybe it is time you retire, if this is the person you've become."

Selina seized the biggest knife from the rack, expertly throwing it with one smooth motion so it stuck into the wall right over Aleksandra's shoulder, the handle quivering from the force of the throw. "Make. The. Call."

Aleksandra nodded, her jaw still clenched and hands still in fists. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll call my brother."

"Good kitty." Selina's lips curved into a smile.

Aleksandra pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, hitting the first number on the speed dial. "Roman? It's Aleks. Listen to me very carefully." She took a deep breath. "Do it. Send out everything you have on them."

"NO—" Selina shouted, lunging towards her but stopping short when Aleksandra pulled out the knife from the wall over her shoulder and plunged it deep into Selina's stomach. Selina let out a shocked cry of pain, blood soaking through her white shirt as she staggered backwards. Aleksandra pulled the knife out of Selina's stomach before Selina slid down to the floor against the kitchen counter, the image of Aleksandra standing before her holding the bloody knife blurring as she started to lose consciousness, Selina barely even registering that the girl was smiling triumphantly.

"I told you," Aleksandra's smile grew wider as she crushed the cell phone that had fallen out of Selina's pocket under the heel of her tennis shoe, "I learned from the best. It does make me sad to do this, but you are not the woman I thought you were. I saw Bruce leave the building before you arrive here. He will not make it back in time to save you. You will be dead when he returns. Bruce will go back to Gotham, broken-hearted again. And I will be gone, with my brother. And all of your boyfriend's money." She looked down at the knife's handle. "Thank you for your fingerprints to access the accounts. You've been very helpful today."

Selina tried to speak, tried to move, but the pain was paralyzing. All she could do was watch Aleksandra walk away through bleary eyes, one thought replaying in her mind, torturing her as her world faded to darkness and all she could see was Bruce's face—

_I never said it back._

A/N- Until Chapter Four…thanks for reading! Reviews=love.


	4. This Heart That I've Misplaced

A/N- Each and every one of you continues to amaze me. I have the best readers ever. Thank you all so much for the support and reviews— I am so glad you're enjoying the ride! There's still much, much more to come, so let's get to it…the lyrics are from "Hymn For The Missing" by Red.

Pieces

Chapter Four

_You took it with you when you left_

_These scars are just a trace_

_Now it wanders lost and wounded _

_This heart that I've misplaced_

_Where are you now?_

_Are you lost?_

_Will I find you again?_

_Are you alone? Are you afraid?_

_Are you searching for me?_

_-"Hymn for the Missing"_

Roman lit up his third cigarette, inhaling and blowing smoke out through his nose as he stood at the railing of the balcony and watched the windows of his sister's building with growing anxiety. He couldn't just sit at the computer anymore, grasping the cell phone she'd given him with sweaty palms. They'd done this so many times, disappeared together without a trace, but today didn't feel right. Roman had never liked this particular plan. Aleksandra was way too emotionally invested in Selina Kyle. Roman had read once that you should never meet your heroes because the reality could only disappoint you. He hoped for his sister's sake that wasn't true.

He'd never really understood her almost romantic fascination with Selina Kyle. It made some kind of sense, he supposed— Roman and Aleksandra had always wanted to find a way to America, and most of all, America's greatest city, Gotham. And Gotham's greatest criminal (in Aleks' opinion) was Selina. She had a certain kind of glamour to her work that fascinated his sister. Selina robbed the men of Gotham (and their wives) like it was an art form, and Aleks had always imagined herself as something of an apprentice to The Cat. That was why the incident in Sweden had upset her so much…Selina would never have killed a man that way. Death by knife was messy. Personal. Not at all glamorous. Aleksandra had lost control, and put them on the run again, but this time with a murder charge haunting their steps.

And so now, Aleksandra had been forced to settle for screwing some disgusting asshole rapper while her little brother was in hiding in an abandoned apartment building across the street, waiting for their next big score so they could get out of here and on to something much better. Always, always, looking for something, for their next break. The break that would get them to America at last. And in under…Roman looked down at this watch…twenty-six minutes and fifty-seven seconds, they would be on their way, with or without his sister's idol in tow.

The phone in his pocket suddenly rang, and Roman fished it out, flipping the phone open. "_Da?_"

"Roman, it's Aleks. Listen to me very carefully." His sister responded in Russian, sounding very upset, but like she was trying to keep her voice steady.

Roman pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Are you in trouble? Do you need hel—"

"Do it." She cut him off. "Send out everything you have on them."

"What is wrong?" Roman asked, sensing his sister was in trouble, but before she could respond, he heard another female voice shouting something before the line went dead. "ALEKS?" Roman yelled into the phone. But there was no answer.

He tried to shake off his worry. She didn't sound scared—just angry. Aleks was stronger than she looked, and every bit as ruthless as Gotham's most hardened criminals when she needed to be. She could handle Selina Kyle. Now he just had to complete his leg of the plan.

Roman raced back inside the apartment, tripping slightly on the stairs in his haste to obey his sister, an obedience that came as automatically to him as breathing, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. There was someone else here. He could feel it. When they'd arrived in Paris, his sister had found him the perfect hideout across the street in an empty, half-finished luxury apartment building that had been in the process of renovation when the owner had run out of money. There had been no other offers, so now it was just sitting there, on one of the nicest streets in Paris, a gilded monument to the hubris of an arrogant investor, like some golden glittering skeleton. The halls were always silent, the loneliness palpable whenever Aleks left him, but today, something was off. Today he wasn't alone.

"Who's there?" Roman pulled out a switchblade from his pocket, flipping it open. "Answer me!"

Nothing. He scanned every corner of the room, squinting his eyes as if that would make the intruder materialize, but he saw nothing. Nothing even seemed out of place, until he looked over at his desktop computer. He had left it on, he was sure of it, but now the little green light on the tower was off. Not in sleep mode. Completely turned off.

Roman crossed the room and sat down in front of the computer, trying everything to turn it on, even resorting to banging on the side of the screen. But nothing worked. He growled with frustration. His sister, the person he owed everything, had asked him to do one thing, and he couldn't even get that right? "Piece of shit." Roman mumbled under his breath in Russian.

"It usually works better with this."

Roman nearly jumped out of his skin at the low, unfamiliar voice that sounded like it was right behind him, spinning around with the switchblade held out to see a very well-dressed man in a suit and a black ski mask, holding up the hard drive to Roman's computer.

"Who the hell are you?" Roman demanded, his Russian accent thicker when surprised, trying to sound so tough, but looking like a little kid, his bright blue eyes wide and his white-blond hair grown out past his shoulders, taller than his sister, but just as rail-thin.

"You should really invest in some external storage drives." The man tucked the hard drive into his inner jacket pocket.

"Give that back!"

"Sorry, kid."

Roman looked at him through narrowed eyes, realization suddenly dawning on his face. During their family research on Gotham, one man just kept coming up, his name practically synonymous with the city itself, once upon at time, recognizable even behind the mask. "You're Bruce Wayne."

"I actually get that a lot." Bruce sighed, removing the mask with a small smile. "But Bruce Wayne is dead. Who knows, maybe it's true what they say about everyone having a double…"

"How did you find me?" Roman cut him off impatiently.

"Your sister doesn't cover her tracks as well as she thinks. You were her only known associate who just kept showing up."

"So you know how to use search engine. That does not exactly live up to your genius reputation." Roman shrugged.

Bruce continued. "She's obviously protective of you, so she wouldn't stash you across town. She'd want to keep you close. If I were her, an abandoned apartment building across the street would have been my first choice too. And once I realized she had a history of 'borrowing' from Selina's playbook to pull off her cons, I realized you two know exactly who we are. Which means you have leverage to get anything you want from us. Or, more accurately…" Bruce crossed his massive arms over his chest. "You _had _leverage."

Roman growled with anger, lunging towards him with the switchblade, Bruce easily disarming him and holding him in a chokehold, sighing. "Come on. I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me…why would Aleksandra risk such a complicated approach? What does your sister really want from Selina. Money? Tricks of the trade? What?"

Roman refused to answer, starting to laugh as Bruce tightened his grip. "What's funny?" Bruce demanded, his heart speeding up as the strangest feeling of dread started to creep through him. If his time with the Joker had taught him anything, it was that any time someone trapped in a chokehold wasted oxygen on laughing, something very bad was about to happen. They either had a death wish or a trump card—or both. "Talk!" Bruce shook him hard.

"She's dead already, man. Your precious criminal." Roman choked out. "I know my sister. She would only call me if Selina turned her down. And if Selina turned her down…she's dead already."

Bruce released him without a word, disappearing from the apartment before Roman could even turn around, the door to the apartment left wide open. Roman massaged his throat, coughing weakly and hoping he'd bought Aleksandra enough time.

Bruce could already hear the sirens of the police and ambulance by the time he tore down the hall of the eleventh story and into Bastien's apartment. For one panicked moment, he couldn't find her, despite the fact that the kitchen floor was slick with blood. He nearly slipped as he skidded around the kitchen island, letting out a strangled cry of anguish when he found Selina on the floor. Bruce fell to his knees beside her, stripping off his jacket to apply pressure to her wound and attempt to stop the bleeding, trying not to notice how cold and pale her skin was already, Selina completely limp when he took her into his arms.

"Selina, please, please don't do this." He pressed his fingers to her long neck, tears burning in his eyes as he located her weak, fluttering pulse. "Please don't leave me." His voice broke, Bruce cradling her against his chest. "Don't leave me."

When the paramedics arrived to the apartment, Bruce reluctantly let her go, his hands stained red, watching them load Selina onto a stretcher. The paramedics were discussing her vitals in clinical, practiced tones that gave no indication of whether or not they thought she had a prayer of surviving. But nothing they were saying sounded good. He knew enough to know that.

"Stage four?" One of the paramedics muttered in French under his breath to his colleague.

"I'd think so. She seems completely nonresponsive." The other man, also speaking in French, nodded back.

Bruce, fluent in French since age four, followed behind them, straining to hear more. He felt so completely helpless that he wanted to scream. If they were right, stage four hypovolemic shock was practically a death sentence. It meant that she'd lost so much blood that her organs were no longer receiving an adequate oxygen supply, and soon, they could start shutting down one by one.

"Mr. Lamont? James Lamont?"

Bruce was so distracted that it took him a moment to respond to his cover ID. "Yes?" He cleared his throat, turning to see a female police officer walking out of the elevator she had just taken down from his and Selina's penthouse.

"No sign of the suspect. But someone does seem to have looted the penthouse—the place is turned upside down, and one side of the master closet is practically empty. We believe that Aleksandra Baranovsky may try to impersonate Samantha Reisler in order to gain access to your accounts. We've located her file with the information you provided, and it's a trick she's employed in the past."

"All right. Thank you." Bruce just nodded, his own voice sounding very far away as he followed the paramedics down to the front lobby, making a call to his bank, his hands shaking violently as he dialed the number. "Hello. This is James Lamont. If a woman claiming to be Samantha Reisler, the co-signer on all of my accounts, attempts to make any kind of withdrawal, please have your people alert the police and contact me immediately. We have reason to believe a wanted criminal who has already made an attempt on Miss Reisler's life may try to impersonate Samantha to access her accounts. Thank you."

He clicked his phone shut, walking outside and swiftly hailing a cab to follow the ambulance. Even though leaving her made his throat feel like it was closing up, he knew the paramedics had too much work to do on Selina for him to ride in the back. These could be the crucial deciding moments of whether she would live or die. He would not interfere.

Once the taxi was in motion, Bruce leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment to try and steady his breathing. He'd be no good to anyone if he passed out cold. Ra's al Ghul may have been a psychopath, but the meditation techniques he'd taught Bruce had been invaluable.

Selina will live. He kept repeating those three words in his head like a mantra. She was strong. Remarkably resilient. Adaptable, he remembered with a smile that made his eyes burn with tears again. Not even a year had passed since their first dance at that ridiculous masquerade ball, the first time he'd ever felt her lips against his. He'd been unusually fixated on her since the first night they met at the Manor, there was no denying that, but the night they danced had cemented his fascination. The memory of that kiss had been one of his only private, treasured comforts at the bottom of the pit, and she hadn't even meant it. Or had she? With Selina, it seemed impossible to know anything for sure. Just as he had no idea what she was going to tell him last night before they were interrupted.

Now he may never know.

_Stop it_, Bruce commanded himself. He couldn't even entertain the thought of losing her. _Please_— he opened his eyes, looking up at the night, staring at the stars barely visible above the bright city lights. He wasn't even sure if he was praying, or, if so, who or what he was praying to, but he begged all the same— _take me instead. I'd go in her place, gladly. Just let her live. I could stand anything if I knew she was happy and safe._

_ Take me instead._

_ It took her a moment to find him amongst the shadows, his dark, hulking form clad in the Batsuit looking to the unpracticed eye like just another gargoyle perched atop the Gotham Opera House. But not to her. _

_ "You'd think a billionaire could afford better seats." She walked up behind him, wearing her catsuit and mask, resting her black-gloved hand on his shoulder. _

_ He didn't seem surprised by her presence. Quite the contrary. More like relieved. She could practically feel his body respond to her touch even through the heavy armor of his suit, her body responding in kind, like there was some kind of electric current flowing between them. _

_It was snowing, but she hardly felt it. He didn't even seem to notice. The nights always felt less cold when they faced them together._

_ "Sometimes I wish we could just stay here forever," he said quietly, speaking in the voice he reserved for the Batman out of habit. She knew who he was. They'd shown more of themselves to each other than they'd ever dared show anyone else. There was no reason for disguises between them anymore. But some habits were hard to break. "It's the only place I've ever found peace." He rose to his feet, finally turning to face her.  
"Here, in the darkness, with you."_

_ "Black is our color." Selina smiled. "And I've never been scared of the dark."_

_ He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, letting him push her back up against the base of a statue of an angel, their embrace shrouded in shadows, both locked in a increasingly violent struggle to get closer, her chest crushed up against his breastplate as she wrapped one arm around his neck, her other hand twisting and clenching in the fabric of the cape over his shoulders, their breathing ragged when they broke apart for breath a long while later._

_ "Come back to me." Bruce buried his head against her shoulder, kissing her neck, his breath hot against her throat when he said it again. "Come back to me, please."_

_ "I'm right here." She tried to assure him, but he just clung to her more tightly, Selina turning her face towards him just as Bruce looked up to her. Their mouths were open, lips barely touching for a moment, both still breathing hard. The orchestra was starting to warm up inside, and it was as though someone kept turning up the volume, until the opera house was practically vibrating from the sounds of discordant notes and random strains from the overture. _

_The roof started to shake beneath them as Bruce and Selina gave in to the embrace again, sinking to the ground together, Selina's back still against the base of the statue until the base suddenly cracked in half with a sound like a bone breaking. But she and Bruce barely even reacted to the growing chaos. Selina pushed him away from the statue and down onto his back before straddling him, seizing the cape to pull his face back up to hers. She kissed him with bruising force, Bruce's gloved hands clenching her shoulders, completely lost in each other even as the Opera House continued to self-destruct around them. Selina vaguely registered the sounds of the statues crumbling and falling from the roof of the building, just as she and Bruce would fall if they moved any closer to the edge…but she didn't care, she just kissed him harder as the orchestra played on, the music now so loud it had become deafening…too loud to be real…_

"Look at that. Accelerated heartbeat. Rapid eye movement. She's dreaming."

"That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Certainly a good sign." The elderly doctor continued to observe his patient as they wheeled Samantha Reisler into ICU recovery. "Will you inform Mr. Lamont that his wife came through the surgery just fine?"

"Of course, doctor." The nurse nodded emphatically. "Although I don't actually think they're married…"

The doctor sighed. "Whatever they are, I'm sure he'd want to know that she's alive."

"Yes, doctor."

"Now it will just be a matter of seeing if she wakes up once the anesthesia wears off. If not, we may be dealing with cerebral hypoxia."

"You think she could go into a coma?" The nurse's eyes widened.

"We have no way of knowing that yet. And if she does, we'll just have to keep waiting to assess the severity of the situation. The longer she stays under…"

"…the more critical the condition." The nurse finished for him.

"Yes. But please don't get into all of that with Mr. Lamont. Just tell him she's doing very well."

The nurse nodded. "Of course."

"How can I help you, ma'am?" The obscenely cheery bank teller wearing a nametag reading "Chloe" greeted her first (and very glamorous) customer.

Aleksandra managed to keep a pleasant smile on her dark red lips, speaking slowly in an attempt to maintain her American accent. "I would like to make a withdrawal. Samantha Reisler." She slid Selina Kyle's fake passport across the desk.

Aleksandra was wearing a long dark brown wig, even going so far as to wear a black Chanel dress and fancy black heels with red soles she'd taken from Selina's closet. But even with her carefully orchestrated disguise, Aleksandra knew she and Selina weren't exactly twins. Luckily this girl didn't look too bright.

Chloe typed the information from the ID into the computer. "Right away. How much would you like to take out?"

"All of it."

She expected the girl to protest or at least look surprised, but Chloe just stared at her computer screen for a moment, her smooth brow suddenly furrowed, seemingly distracted by something. "Could you give me just one moment, Miss Reisler?"

"Is there a problem?" Aleksandra raised her eyebrows.

"No, not at all." Chloe laughed, the sound a little too high pitched to be genuine. "Just…any withdrawal over a certain amount, I have to authorize through my manager. You'll be asked for fingerprints and a signature. Let me just go find my manager and the proper forms."

"Please hurry. I'm in a bit of a rush." Aleksandra pressed her lips together. "After all, it is _my _money."

"Of course, ma'am." Chloe kept the frozen smile on her face until she turned away, making eye contact with her manager and jerking her head towards the break room.

"What's wrong?" He asked as soon as they were alone in the room together.

"That woman—she's claiming to be Samantha Reisler, but I know Samantha, and that's not her. She was asking to make a huge withdrawal, and when I pulled up the account, there was an emergency hold placed by the primary, James Lamont, saying the ID is stolen and whoever's trying to make the withdrawal is wanted for the attempted murder of the real Samantha Reisler. I hit the silent alarm, but I need your help keeping her busy until the police arrive." Chloe swallowed hard, looking terrified. "Did I do the right thing? Do you think…do you think she'll try to hurt us?"

"You did exactly the right thing." The manager took a deep breath, patting his young new teller's shoulder. "Everything will be fine. You just stay calm, and I'll do all the talking."

"Okay." Chloe nodded, hearing police sirens already. Her boss was right. Everything would be fine.

She followed him back out to the main floor, and they both stopped with surprise. The woman was gone. The lobby empty. As if she'd never been there at all.

"Mr. Lamont?"

Bruce woke up with a start from where he'd fallen asleep in the hospital waiting room. His entire left arm was asleep, his back so stiff and sore he could barely get to his feet without wincing. But at the sight of the doctor, he was wide awake, adrenaline burning away the drugged sensation of such a deep sleep. "Yes? Is she all right?"

"Samantha did very well in surgery."

Bruce sensed the doctor's hesitation in telling him more. "But…"

"Will you have a seat with me, Mr. Lamont?" The doctor indicated the couch where Bruce had been sleeping. They sat down together, and the doctor went on. "The anesthesia used during her surgery should have worn off by now, but Samantha hasn't regained consciousness. She's had a massive blood transfusion to replenish the lack of oxygen to her organs from the trauma, and her vitals are remarkably good for someone who's been through such an ordeal…but we're still concerned with her remaining unresponsive. Basically, the longer it takes for her to wake up on her own, the lower her chances of emerging from the comatose state become."

Bruce leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "So what are our options?"

"For now, we wait." The doctor shrugged sadly. "If you're a religious man, I suggest you pray. And…while it's no guarantee, there is some evidence to suggest that the voice of a loved one can help to regenerate the brain's neural networks."

Bruce nodded. "When can I see her?"

"Now, if you'd like."

"Thank you. For everything." Bruce shook the man's hand before getting to his feet and making his way to Selina's room. She was hooked up to so many machines, tubes in her mouth and nose, an IV in her arm, her already pale skin still chalk white. Bruce wanted to go to her, to help her somehow. But he could do nothing but sit and wait. The only thing he could do to help her was…talk.

Bruce sat down at her bedside, unsure whether he was allowed to touch her or not. He wanted to touch her, so badly his chest constricted with a physical ache.

_No. Talk to her. That's the only way you can help her now._

He cleared his throat. Nothing to lose, everything to gain. Some choices were simple.

"Selina, you have to fight. I know you can. We're fighters, both of us." Bruce swallowed hard. "You said once that we're fundamental opposites, but I don't think so. I think so much of us is the same. Sometimes I feel like I've been fighting my whole life. And I always knew what I was fighting against. But I…I never knew what I was fighting for until you."

He didn't know if he was only imagining it, but the steady pace of her heart monitor beeping seemed to quicken. She could hear him, somehow. So he went on.

A/N- More to come soon! I'm a teacher, and my first week of school has been INSANE, but writing this has been an awesome escape— you guys are the best. Reviews=love.


	5. How Can This Last Forever

A/N- So sorry for the long wait- thank you all so much for sticking with my story. This is my first year of teaching, and I wasn't prepared for the fact that this job just takes over your life to an insane degree. I'm working hard (in all my spare time, haha) at making writing my full time job, but until then, I'll have to keep finding time for my stories around teaching the kiddos Shakespeare and Poe. So again- sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Pieces

Chapter Five

_But you chased me down and broke in just when I was done believing_

_Spun me round so close now_

_I can feel you breathing_

_Sunlight burns inside and I feel so alive_

_Help me now_

_Tell me how_

_How can this last forever_

_-"Forever" Red_

"Hey, boss. You're gonna want to read this." Jen walked into Selina's bedroom holding the morning newspaper after her first big solo job in Gotham. Selina had slept off the adrenaline rush for most of the day, and it was starting to grow dark outside again.

"Did I make the headlines?" Selina sat up in bed, stretching luxuriously in her black silk lingerie and feeling about ten feet tall. All her training had paid off. She was only eighteen years old, and she'd pulled off one of the biggest heists in Gotham history. She examined her left hand with a proud smile, still wearing one of the solid gold and ruby encrusted authentic Egyptian rings she'd taken from the Gotham Natural History Museum.

"Yeah. But you may not like it." Jen nervously handed off the newspaper.

"Well, I didn't exactly think the GPD would be my biggest fa—" Selina's voice died as she looked down at the lead headline. "What the hell?"

It read, under the only surveillance photo taken of her, in full costume on the rooftops of Gotham as she'd escaped the museum and fleet of police:

THE BAT AND THE CAT: COULD THIS MASKED VIGILANTE BE WORKING FOR THE BAT MAN?

Selina growled with frustration, slamming the paper down on the bed as she

looked up at Jen, eyes bright with fury. "_Working_ for him? I've never even met the guy! And even if I had, what would that little boy playing dress up and always showing off his fancy toys have to do with my work?"

"I knew you'd be upset—"

"I am upset! This is ridiculous! And of course, they don't think we're partners. No, I must be _working_ for him. I've never heard anything so sexist in my life!"

Jen flopped down in bed with Selina, picking up the article to look at it again. "Cool picture, though. You look like a bad ass."

Selina shook her head, shaking her head and climbing to her feet. She had left the many elements of her catsuit on the ground after triumphantly stripping it off last night, and now she began to put it back on.

"Another job?" Jen raised her eyebrows.

"No, honey." Selina buckled her gun holster around her waist, slipping on her mask and flipping down her night vision. "I think it's time for me to introduce myself to this Batman. Let him know he's not the only game in town."

"Be careful, Selina. There's nothing he'd like better than putting you in handcuffs."

"Meow." Selina gave her a teasing wink. "Don't worry, baby. Aren't I always careful?" She ran towards the open window of her bedroom at full tilt speed, doing a round off back handspring to flip off the edge and catch herself on the fire escape below, making her way acrobatically down to the dark streets of Gotham below.

Where criminals went, Batman seemed to follow, like some damn little do-gooder schoolboy who just happened to have the muscles and fancy gadgets to not get himself killed so far, so Selina started her search on a shadowy street very well known for establishments centered around drugs, gambling, and prostitution.

She mostly kept to the rooftops at first, just making the rounds, until she suddenly stopped at the sound of a woman's scream. Selina leapt to the next rooftop, feeling a panic rising in her throat at the sound. She knew that sound. She'd made that sound, only once in her life, the night before she decided to make herself strong enough to never need to again.

"_Aw, are you tired, you little whore? Well, you better perk back up." The man grabbed a fistful Selina's long dark hair, pulling her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. "Come on, girlie. Open up your mouth. Wider. You'll need to open it much wider to handle me. Go on, or I'll open it for you." The man held the pocket knife blade at the side of Selina's mouth. "You do know how to swallow, don't you, slut? We have certain expectations for our entertainment this evening." Silent tears began streaming down her cheeks, and he took the knife away, looking back at his friends. "Aw, boys, we made her cry." He turned back to Selina. "Cheer up, ya big baby. You've still got a long night ahead of you." He released her, letting her fall to the ground, the group of men standing around her laughing as she struggled to free her bound wrists and ankles, the electrical ties pulled much too tight to escape. She was on her stomach now, naked on the cheap carpet, trying to move towards the hotel room door, but every time she got close, they'd pull her back by her ankles, laughing hysterically as if she was a small animal they'd caught in trap to torment for their enjoyment. "All right, enough games." The ringleader of the group who'd bought her for the night flipped her over and pinned her arms over her head, leaning close to her, his breath putrid and hot on her face. "Time to earn your keep." Selina shook her head, finally finding her voice, twisting away from him and yelling "HELP!" at the top of her lungs, the pathetic, broken cry of a little girl lost that was stifled almost immediately when he shoved a foul-smelling rag into her mouth, her vision starting to swim from whatever substance they'd soaked the cloth in, Selina looking up at the circle of businessmen as they all moved in closer, their soft, cruel laughter filling the room as they unbuckled their belts, unzipped their pants—_

Selina mentally shook herself. Those days were long over. She wasn't that helpless girl anymore. Far from it. During her training, she'd tracked down each of those men—lower level cronies in the Joker's employ, as it turned out— completely cleaned out their bank accounts and left them ruined, and most likely killed by the Joker when they didn't bring him the funds he wanted. She was Selina Kyle, the Cat, and she was going help this woman, the memory of how it felt to cry out so desperately for help and realize it was never coming still very fresh in her memory even after all these years.

She continued her furious path towards the woman's cries, leaping across rooftops, running so fast she could hear the night air whistling past her ears, finally reaching the source of the trouble behind the back alley of a club. A scantily clad woman was struggling against her attacker, a wiry gangster in a cheap suit who was holding her up against the wall. Selina withdrew her whip, about to snap it to get the man's attention, when suddenly a massive dark figure flew past her and down into the alley way, his cape spread out and billowing behind him like bat wings. He landed in the alley, grabbing the man by the scruff of his collar and bodily heaving him into the opposite wall, knocking him unconscious immediately, the man sliding to the floor, as limp as a rag doll. The Batman spoke into a communicator on his wrist in a gruff voice, saying, "Gordon. I've got a present for you. Yeah, the one we've been looking for. Up to his old tricks." He clicked off the communicator, turning back to the hysterical, trembling woman.

"T-Thank you." She finally choked out.

"Are you all right?" Batman asked her, his voice more gentle, putting his arm around her shoulder as she nodded weakly, and he led her towards the opening of the alley. "He won't be bothering you again. Can I give you a ride home?"

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" The girl spoke shakily, clinging to his muscled shoulder to stay standing.

"It'd be my pleasure." He hit another button on his utility belt, and the famous Batmobile came roaring down the street, the girl's hands on her cheeks with happy surprise, Batman helping her inside before going to the driver's side and disappearing inside the car himself, the tires squealing as he drove her fast and far away from her troubles.

It all happened so fast that Selina was still just standing there, whip in hand, as they drove away, her mouth hanging open, torn between respect and annoyance. She let out a small, stunned laugh. "Is this guy for real?" He was just determined to steal her thunder at every turn. She could have saved that girl.

But he'd gotten there first. And Selina was suddenly finding it difficult to stay annoyed with him. In fact, she felt something very different, something since she'd watched him sweep into that alleyway like some damn white knight. The best name she could assign to her feeling was…attraction? Close enough. But not just a "tall, dark, and handsome" attraction. Like they were two opposite magnetic poles. Like there was something literally pulling her closer to him, something she had to actively fight to stay hidden away. No, she didn't think she would mind getting closer to Batman one bit.

Selina shook her head with a small laugh. This was insane. Must just be some residual madness from the high of her first successful job last night. She wrapped her whip back around her hand to replace it on her belt. "All right, Bat boy. Not half bad. We'll call it a truce for now."

And she'd held to that truce for years, staying out of his way so long as he stayed out of hers. Until she'd grown truly desperate. Until John Daggett had filled her mind with dreams of a Clean Slate. Until that night in Wayne Manor where she'd played Bruce's maid for the night.

And now, just over a year later, she dreamed of him in a hospital bed in Paris, dreamed of what could have been if she had stepped out of the shadows all of those nights she just watched him in silence, trapped in her own mind now and left to only wonder if she'd ever get the chance to ask him, all those nights they'd nearly crossed paths on the rooftops in Gotham, if he'd ever known she was there.

Bruce walked into the hospital, a fresh bouquet of red roses in one hand and a book in the other. It had been a week since that first hopeful sign where he had been sure Selina heard his voice, and now Bruce had developed a routine of coming to read to her every day. He wished he was the kind of guy who could say beautiful, wonderful things to her every day, but he just wasn't practiced enough at sharing emotions to pour his heart out with every visit, and the doctor had said just hearing his voice was the main thing that would help her, so he read. In his former life as Bruce Wayne CEO by day and Batman by night, he'd rarely had time to read for pleasure, and reading a book just for the sake of reading was definitely something he was still getting used to.

They were halfway through the new smart book that all of Paris seemed to be pouring over on the subway (he'd even seen one woman moved to actual tears), and while Bruce frankly found it somehow both melodramatic and boring as dirt, he never started a book without finishing it. And he liked to think Selina was enjoying it. Some color seemed to be coming back to her cheeks, and there were moments where she would stir slightly and Bruce could almost imagine that a smile crossed her lips.

He reached her hospital room, sitting down across from her bed and stretching out. It was strange to think, but it was almost becoming comfortable here. Home was with her. And she was here, so this was the place Bruce wanted to be, as long and as much as they would let him. He had moved into a hotel nearby the hospital instead of returning to the building where she'd been attacked, the prospect of sleeping in a huge empty hotel bed without her was just too depressing.

Bruce found the place they'd left off in the story and launched back into things, reading for about a half hour before his his eyelids grew slightly heavy from staring at the pages, his voice a little hoarse. The plot was not improving, but now he only had a few more chapters to go. This was turning into something of a war— now he had to finish it. This book must be defeated. Next time he would definitely just stick with the classics.

He cleared his throat, going on. "That's when she knew. What she had felt all those years ago, from that very first moment they met. Her soul recognized his—" Bruce breathed out, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, boy."

"Bruce, honey, you really don't have to keep reading this drivel for my sake."

He nearly dropped the book with shock, looking up with wide eyes to find that Selina had been watching him read, her brown eyes tired and glassy but open and alert, a small smile on her lips. "I mean, no offense, but if I wasn't in a coma before, that book would damn sure do the trick."

Bruce laughed out loud, happy tears immediately welling up in his eyes. "I know. I hate it."

"I love you."

She just said it, without a trace of hesitation or fear anymore. Bruce threw the book aside, getting to his feet and taking her face in his hands to kiss her. The sterile hospital room wasn't exactly the most romantic setting in the world, and he had to be careful not to disturb her nasal cannula tubing with his large hands, but none of that mattered. "I love you too." He breathed out. "And I swear, I'm going to find Aleksandra and make her pay for what she did to you."

Selina looked up at him with a weary but affectionate smile at the immediate reemergence of his Batman voice. "Okay, but first can you call the doctor? I kind of feel like the room is spinning, and I don't think it was just the kiss."

Bruce snapped back to reality. "Yes, yes, of course." He hit the button to page her doctor, stepping back away from her as if afraid he might have broken her. "So…so how are you feeling? You said dizzy? I think that's normal. What else? Are you in any pain?"

Selina considered the question for a moment. "Umm…maybe a little from the ridiculous sexual tension in that damn book. Eight years of foreplay? I mean, come on. Do they finally do it at the end or what?"

Bruce shook his head, laughing again. Nice to see her sense of humor was intact. "I don't read ahead."

"Oh well." She reached out for his hand, Bruce taking it and sitting down on the edge of her bed, shaking his head.

"I knew it. I knew you'd come back."

She reached out with her other hand, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. "This may sound cheesy, but…I heard you. Talking to me. Reading. I…I dreamed about you, all the time."

"What did you dream?" Bruce grinned.

"I should probably tell you when we're alone." Selina smirked, nodding her head towards the doctor and nurses walking in the room, Bruce's cheeks very red when he turned around to greet them.

Eventually they ushered Bruce out so they could complete a series of tests on Selina to check her brain function and reflexes, but he didn't go far. He walked around the perimeter of the hospital, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. She was back. She remembered him. And she loved him.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his former name, turning around to see Roman Baranovsky lurking around the bus stop outside of the hospital. Bruce cast a look around to make sure no one else had heard, stepping inside the bus stop and gripping the fabric at the back of Roman's collar. "Don't ever call me that again."

"S-Sorry."

"What the hell are you doing here? Coming to finish off the job?"

"No, no, man. Really. I wanted to ask you…" Now it was Roman's turn to look around nervously, but they were alone. "Is she okay?"

"Who? Your sister? I haven't seen her. Not for lack of trying, believe me."

"No. Selina. Your girlfriend."

"Don't say her name either! What is wrong with you?" Bruce shook him slightly. "She's fine. But why do you care how she is?"

"My sister…she does bad things sometimes."

"Yes, I'd say so."

"But she doesn't mean to. She has described it as…" Roman struggled for the correct American expression, "…like some kind of black out. When she is trying to protect us, she does things…bad things…without thinking."

Bruce did not appear moved. "Where is Aleksandra now?"

"I don't know. I'm worried. We had a meeting place, but she is not there."

"Where?"

Roman just shook his head. "I can't…if Aleks even knew I was talking to you, she would lose her mind."

"I think that ship has sailed, son."

"I know. And I know she will never be able to tell you this…so I will say it. I am sorry for what she has done to your woman."

Bruce blinked with surprise. He only wished Selina was here to hear someone call her his "woman." She'd probably punch the kid in the face. Something Bruce was still highly considering.

"What's your angle here, Roman?"

"No. No angle. I just wanted to tell you this. I am sorry for what happened."

Bruce looked at him for a moment, his rage fading, suddenly realizing how young Roman was. Barely more than a kid. Not that much older than Bruce had been when he'd been shuttled from boarding school to boarding school, so angry with the world and everyone in it that he scared himself.

"You know, Roman…you don't have to follow your sister's path. You could still start over. Without her. Be someone different. Find a better life."

Roman shook his head, swallowing hard. "Aleks needs me."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid something may have happened to her."

Bruce released his grip on Roman's collar, sighing heavily. "I could help you start over. If you'd help me find her."

"Why do you want to find her? To kill her?"

"No." Bruce shook his head. "To have her placed in proper care."

"Jail, you mean?"

"She's a danger to everyone she meets, Roman. You know this. You've just admitted it yourself."

"I…I couldn't do that to her."

Bruce looked at him intently, man to man. "I hope you reconsider."

Roman shook his head, staring down at his feet. "I have to go. I'm glad your girlfriend's okay." He turned and left as quickly as possible, practically breaking into a run once he was out of the bus stop, as if afraid Bruce would tackle him to the ground.

But Bruce had much more discreet plans than that. He opened his cell phone, activating the very small but useful dual tracking/listening device, an early Lucius Fox invention, that the young boy now unknowingly had attached to his collar. All he needed was the location. If Aleks was foolish enough to return to their hide-out, Bruce would be there to welcome her. Aleks would soon learn a fact Bruce had long known— one of his many personal failings was the inability to let go of a grudge.

_one week later_

"Honey, you have to get me out of here." Selina gripped Bruce's arm as soon as the nurse left them. "I am losing my mind."

"This is the best hospital in France, Selina." Bruce sighed, shaking his head with a smile.

"I don't care. If they want me to spend another night in this bed, they're going to have start using restraints."

"It can't be that bad."

Selina laced her fingers through his. "I just want to be with you. Away from here. Far, far away."

"You're tired of Paris?"

"I could stand a change of scenery. What about you?"

"Rome's nice this time of year." Bruce said, but he sounded hesitant.

She pulled him closer to her, her arm snaking around his shoulders. "Well, then sign the papers, pack me some Valium, and let's get the hell out of here." Selina kissed him, pulling back after a moment. "What is it? Something's wrong."

"No. I'm fine."

"Bruce. Why don't you want to leave?"

"You just woke up a week ago, Selina. If we rush it, you'll just end up back in a hospital bed."

She shook her head. "There's something else. Something you're not telling me."

Bruce sighed. "Fine. I can't leave until I know that Aleksanda is going to get what she deserves."

Selina looked at him for a long moment, an odd expression on her face. "And what does she deserve?"

"She deserves to be punished for what she did to you."

"And you have to be one who doles that punishment out?"

"Well…well, yes. She hurt you. She nearly killed you. I feel…I feel like it's my responsibility to take care of this."

"Bruce…you don't have to prove anything to me. The police—"

"—are just as useless here as they were in Gotham. Clearly. Since the only lead on Aleksandra was my doing."

"Lead?"

"I know where Roman is staying. A safehouse, where he waits for his sister to return."

Selina looked up at him. "So now you have to protect the entire world?"

"I'm not doing this for the entire world! I'm doing this for you!"

"What if I asked you to leave her alone?"

Bruce shook his head, furious. "What are you talking about?"

"She was desperate, Bruce. It sounds like she's been desperate all her life. I can understand that." Selina put her hand on his cheek. "I can forgive that."

Bruce pulled away from her, getting to his feet. "Well, I can't."

"Bruce—"

Suddenly his cell phone started beeping in his pocket. Bruce pulled it out, looking down at the screen for a moment before switching it off. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"What was that?" She started to get out of bed, reaching for his pocket.

Bruce caught her by the shoulders. "Stay in bed."

"Fuck you. Don't talk to me like that." Selina spat. She could still get murderously angry so fast it made his head spin. She went to wrench away from him, suddenly crying out and doubling over in pain, clutching her stomach. She pushed him away when Bruce tried to help her, Selina staggering back to the bed. "Shit. Shit. I think…my stitches…"

Bruce alerted the doctor, not saying anything else, just watching her for a moment, remembering the pain and embarrassment that coursed through him every time his once-capable body betrayed him. Selina had just as much pride as he did, and he knew accepting limits would be just as difficult for her.

The doctor and nurses arrived shortly, and after examining the bloody bandage on her stomach, they confirmed that she had ripped through her stitches. "We'll get you patched up again, Miss Reisler. And then we really must insist that your rest." The doctor assured a fuming Selina before turning back to Bruce. "Mr. Lamont, would you mind stepping outside while we work?"

"Not at all." Bruce looked down to Selina, but she refused to meet his gaze. "I'll wait outside."

Selina shook her head, still clutching her side, suddenly glaring up at him. "Yeah. Right."

"I'll be back tomorrow." Bruce relented.

"So this is love, huh?" Selina asked him coldly.

"Love is protecting the people you care about."

"Now you're some kind of expert?" She snorted with laughter, and they just glared at each other for a moment, lost in some kind of battle of wills that was making the doctor and nurses very uncomfortable.

"Miss Reisler, we really must insist you lie back—" one of the bolder nurses finally spoke up.

Selina finally looked away from Bruce, grumbling "Fine," and laying back on her hospital issue mattress.

Bruce, just as stubborn as she was, told the doctors to call him right after and walked out of her room and straight out the front door of the hospital towards Roman and Aleksandra's no-longer-safehouse. His phone had been set to go off if anyone other than Roman entered the premises. And someone had. She had come back for her brother, finally. And as Bruce imagined Selina's face twisting in pain as she clutched her side just now, he felt a now-familiar rage building within him towards Aleksandra and what she had so thoughtlessly done.

She was not getting off easy for this just because Selina had a soft spot for damaged young criminals. Selina and Aleks were nothing alike. And while he had never been able to turn Selina over to the police back in Gotham, he felt absolutely no hesitation in doling out justice for Aleksandra tonight.

"Where have you been?" Roman spoke in hurried Russian, helping his sister over to the threadbare couch in their shitty safehouse apartment, Aleksandra pale as a ghost, even thinner than usual, her bare arms covered with needle marks. Roman held up one of her arms, Aleksandra pulling it away, her pupils enormous, looking so out of it he wasn't even sure she knew where she was.

"Leave me alone…" she said vaguely.

"You promised me. You promised me you wouldn't use again."

Aleks ran a hand through her stringy blonde hair. "I promised you a lot of things."

"We need to get out of here. Bruce Wayne is looking for you. Selina survived, but he still wants you dead."

Aleks looked up at her brother with wide eyes. "She lives?"

"Yes."

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't get their money. It's too well-protected. But I have enough I lifted from Bastien to get us out of here. We need to move on. Find a new job."

Roman crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at his feet. "We cannot do this forever, Aleks."

"Do you have another suggestion?"

Roman said nothing. Aleks shook her head, letting out a hoarse laugh. "I didn't think so."

"I have a suggestion. Turn yourself in."

Aleks sat up with a start, Roman whipping around to see Bruce stepping out of the shadows of their apartment.

"Or what? You kill me?" Aleks asked him in Russian, getting to her feet.

Bruce responded in Russian as well. "You keep up this life, you'll kill yourself. And your brother."

"What do you know about this life?" Aleks shook her head angrily. "Screwing a criminal does not make you one of us."

"Where do you see this going for you?" Bruce asked, stepping towards her. "What kind of life are you trying to make for yourself?"

"I did not choose this, you fool of a man." Aleks spat, tears filling her eyes. "When I was a child, my whole family slept in one room. My father started fucking me when I was six years old. He did it while my brother slept in bed beside me and my mother turned her back and pretended not to hear. I grew numb to it eventually. Became addict to try and forget. Until I come home from a friend's house and found him touching my brother."

"Aleks!' Roman shook his head fiercely, but she ignored him, going on.

"Roman was seven years old. Just the age he liked, I suppose. I was fifteen. Getting too old for him. I should have killed him then. But a quick death was too good for him. So as soon as he left for work, I packed up our things and took Roman with me. Away from Lobnya. Away from that monster. Cancer killed him the next year. I was happy he died, but it didn't solve any of our problems. Roman and I didn't have money. We had to do something. I research how to steal. I find out about Selina. I did everything to become like her. Roman and I start doing jobs. One man tries to rape me. I kill him. And we come here."

Bruce let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry all of that happened to you. But stealing and killing isn't going to bring you any kind of peace."

"Safety for my brother would bring me peace. And the only way in this world to have safety is to have money. You know this. You're a man whose life is about money. You have never gone without. So you could not understand."

"Tell the police what you just told me. I'll pay for your lawyer. I'll get you the best representation money can buy. I'll help your brother start over. Live a clean life. Give him a chance, Aleks."

Aleksandra looked at Bruce for a long, silent moment. Finally—"You would do this for me? For us both? After what I've done to you?"

"Yes. Selina told me that you have her forgiveness. And if she can forgive you…I should be able to do the same. I'll help you, in any way I can. But escaping what you've done wouldn't help you. You have to face it. Every part of yourself. The darkest parts you never wanted anyone to know. Believe me. You have to face them, or you'll never find any kind of peace."

Aleks nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. "May I change my clothes? Before we go to the police?"

Bruce nodded. "We'll wait for you here."

She disappeared up the stairs, Bruce turning to Roman. "Tell me the truth. Is there any way to escape from her room?"

"No. No windows. The only way out is the door you came in through."

"Don't lie to me. You wouldn't be helping her by lying."

"I get it, man, okay? I am telling the truth."

Bruce had done enough reconnaissance on the perimeter of this place to know that Roman was telling the truth about the windows. He'd just been testing him. Satisfied that they weren't trying to play him, he and Roman waited for her to come back in silence.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then a half hour went by.

Roman stubbed out his fifth cigarette. "I should make sure she's all right…"

Bruce held out his hand, stopping Roman. "Let me." He walked up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that the door was slightly ajar. Bruce knocked twice. "Aleksandra? Is everything all right?"

"I am almost ready."

"You're doing the right thing."

"I know." Suddenly Bruce heard the sound of a gun safety clicked off. He pushed open the door, charging inside and finding Aleksandra standing at her vanity, staring at her reflection, a pistol in one hand.

"Aleksandra. Put down the gun." Bruce stepped towards her slowly.

Aleks turned the gun on him, her pale features twisting with pain and misery. "Get away from me. Get away or I shoot."

Bruce held up his hands. "Think about what you're doing. Think about your brother. If you shoot me, what kind of life are you making for him?"

Her hands were shaking violently, but she kept the gun trained on Bruce. "I know now. I know now what I must do."

"What's that?" Bruce asked, his voice quiet and gentle.

"Something I should have done many years ago. I take your advice. I set him free." Before Bruce could make another move forward, Aleks turned the gun on herself, shoving the barrel into her mouth and pulling the trigger.

"NO!" Bruce lunged towards her, catching her body before it hit the ground, hearing Roman's footsteps pounding up the stairs, Bruce shielding the gruesome sight with his body when Roman stepped inside the room.

"Get away from her!" Roman roared. "Don't you touch her!"

"It's too late, Roman. She did this to herself. She said she did it for you."

Roman looked at the gun still resting in his sister's limp hand, tears streaming down his face as his legs gave out from under him, and he sank to the floor against the wall, sobbing into his hands like a child.

Bruce called the paramedics, and guided a hysterical Roman out of the room. Once the body was taken away, Roman seemed to retreat inside himself, falling into an odd catatonic silence, refusing to move from the curb outside their apartment or look at Bruce sitting down beside him.

Trying to offer any kind of help he could, Bruce told Roman about the night his parents died. He'd never really talked about to anyone in detail, but he felt like Roman needed to hear the truth about the monster that had ended their lives, not the pretty obituary-page story about his parent's contributions to Gotham and their charity work.

After Bruce was finished, Roman was silent for a long time. Then—"My father was that monster for Aleks. He killed her soul. He took her life away, a little bit every night. All she ever wanted was different for me."

"Then start now. Let her see you go on and have an amazing life. She'll always be with you. Just like my parents are always with me."

"Why are you doing this? Why would you help me?"

"I want you to have a better life. It took me thirty years to let go of the anger. Thirty very dark, vengeful years."

"What made you finally let go of it?"

"Someone showed me a different end to my journey." Bruce smiled slightly. "And I was enough of a sucker to believe her."

"But I don't have anyone like that."

"You have me. Telling you your story can go another way. Right here. This is your crossroads." Bruce pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket, containing a one-way plane ticket, a new identification, enough cash to start over, and the Clean Slate flash drive, handing it over to Roman. "You can start over. I can show you how."

Roman stared down at the envelope for a long moment before he finally looked up to Bruce, giving him a small nod. "I'm listening."

Bruce returned to the hospital the next morning, freshly showered and shaved, exhausted from a long night getting Roman on the first morning flight out of Paris, bound for America, just like he'd always dreamed.

Selina's doctor had called Bruce around midnight to tell him that she was resting comfortably after having her stitches redone, and Bruce understood that to mean that the only way an angry, restless Selina would be resting comfortably would be if they knocked her out with painkillers.

Maybe she'd forget all about their fight in the haze of morphia, Bruce thought hopefully. But somehow…he thought not.

Sure enough, when he walked into her hospital room, Selina alert and well rested but not particularly happy to see him.

"Good morning," Bruce said hesitantly, sitting down beside her hospital bed.

Selina looked at him, and Bruce wondered if there was something wrong with him finding her so pretty when she was mad at him. Something was different this morning though. Her brown hair was shiny and newly washed, her face fresh scrubbed, somehow managing to look like a movie star while wearing a hospital gown.

"You look nice."

"They actually let me take a shower this morning instead of my usual glamorous sponge bath." Selina frowned slightly. "As long as I promised not to…overexert myself and rip my stitches again."

"So no show tunes in the shower?"

The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "That was one time, Bruce. Let it go."

"No, like I told you then, you have a really nice voice."

"Shut up, I do not." Selina laughed before she could help it, but it faded after a moment, and the awkward silence returned. She cleared her throat. "So…did you find what you were looking for last night? Leave Aleks hanging off the side of the building or tied up and giftwrapped on the police's doorstep or something?"

"Aleks killed herself, Selina."

The color drained from Selina's face. "Really?"

"Yes. I realized you were right about forgiving her. I told her I would help her find a good lawyer. I said I'd get Roman out of town. She seemed relieved. And then she went upstairs and…"

"She didn't believe you." Selina said sadly. "Probably wouldn't believe anything any man told her."

"Her father sexually abused her and Roman. She did tell me that much. I wanted to help her, Selina. I really did."

"But she was past saving." Selina leaned back against her pillow, staring out the window for a moment. "Are you going to get mad at me if I say I'm sorry she died like that?"

Bruce got up, wanting to be closer to her, sitting down on the side of her bed, smoothing down her hair. "No, of course not. I'm sorry too. I would never want that, for anyone. I did help Roman though. Gave him the Clean Slate. He left for America this morning."

Selina nodded. "Thank you, Bruce."

"Of course. And I'm sorry about last night."

"Me too." Selina sighed. "And, look, I know I over-identified. But I couldn't help it. For a long time…I thought I was past saving. Everyone did. Everyone but you."

"You saved me too, Selina."

She rolled her eyes with a small smile, clearly pleased by his words but trying to hide it. "Okay, okay, just kiss me already."

Bruce happily complied.

_one month later_

"Morning." Selina stretched out luxuriously beside Bruce in bed, her voice slightly husky from sleep.

"Morning, beautiful." Bruce put down the morning newspaper he'd been reading, leaning over to give her a chaste kiss. "Happy anniversary."

"You too, honey." Selina forced a smile on her face, watching as Bruce went back to his reading and trying not to reach over and wring his neck.

They hadn't made love once since she got out of the hospital, and Selina wanted to jump his bones so badly at this point that she almost let out an actual groan of frustration when he pulled away after a brief, close-mouthed kiss. She had even asked the doctor point blank at her last appointment if they were allowed to have sex now, and the doctor had assured them both that it was fine to return to "business as usual" as he put it, but as a furiously blushing Bruce had informed her once the doctor left, he still didn't want to "rush into things" and end up with her back in the hospital. Selina had made some joke about him thinking pretty highly of himself if he thought his sexual prowess would land her in the hospital, and Bruce had laughed weakly, and then abandoned the issue all together.

And so they had spent the last month living in a hotel room with a huge bed that practically cried out for sex, and Bruce hadn't even tried for second base. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe it was the whole "I love you" thing. Maybe she should never have said. It felt like once they started saying it, they had turned into an old married couple—comfortable, pleasantly happy, and totally, completely sexless.

But she had hope for today—admittedly, hope that was quickly dwindling after that good morning kiss. But some hope remained. Today was their six month anniversary. And their last night in Paris. That had to get her something, right?

"So, Bruce..." Selina rested her hand on his chest, lowering her voice seductively. "What do you want to do to me tonight?"

"I made us dinner reservations at L'Astrance." Bruce said placidly, not looking over at her for more than a fleeting second.

She leaned closer, kissing his neck, sliding her hand under the robe covering his chest— "And then?"

"Well, we should probably get some rest tonight. Our flight to Rome leaves at 6:00 tomorrow morning."

"You know, we can always sleep on the plane…" She murmured into his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe, a trick that had worked in the past.

But Bruce pulled away, laughing a little nervously. "Selina, come on."

"What? Did we take some joint vows of chastity I'm not aware of?" She threw her hands up in frustration .

Bruce didn't seem to know how to respond, climbing out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower. You should…you should order some room service for breakfast. You shouldn't take your pain pills on an empty stomach." He practically sprinted into the bathroom.

"Sure thing." Selina fell back against their pillows, running a hand through her hair, _this close_ to pulling it out with frustration.

She was going to have to resort to more creative tactics if she was going to convince Bruce she wasn't the sad little hospital patient anymore, that she was still the sexy cat burglar who liked it up against the wall in an alley. But how could she show him that? Selina stared up at the ceiling, her mind whirring. After a moment, she sat back up, a triumphant smile on her face as inspiration finally struck. Perfect.

"Buckle up, Bat Boy." Selina slinked out of bed, speaking under her breath. "I'm gonna give you the night of your life."

Bruce had wanted to go by the jeweler's to pick up her present before dinner, so Selina barely had enough time to hatch her plan before he returned to pick her up. She made sure to meet him downstairs instead of letting him come back up lest he ruin the surprise, and Selina could barely contain her excitement, thankfully able to pass it off as her first major anniversary jitters. For now, she was still playing proper little girlfriend, wearing a white lace dress and nude heels, looking almost bridal, wanting to give him a good contrast for later. Bruce seemed oblivious to the fact that she was up to something, and they had a perfectly nice dinner. While they were waiting for dessert, Bruce pulled out the red velvet box that contained her anniversary present, looking a little nervous as he handed it over, putting his hand over hers.

"Selina, these last six months have had their ups and downs, but without a doubt…they've been the best six months of my life. I love you so much." Bruce leaned over, kissing her cheek. "Happy anniversary."

She opened the box, actually gasping with surprise.

"Don't worry. I had the tracker removed." Bruce grinned.

"Your mother's necklace." Selina gently traced her fingers over the perfectly rounded pearls. "Bruce. No. It's too much. You don't have to do this."

"I want to. I told you, it looks better on you than locked up in some safe." Bruce smiled. "Put it on."

Selina smiled back, shaking her head. "Oh, all right." She pulled her long glossy curls over one shoulder, letting Bruce clasp the necklace at the back of her long neck. Selina shook her hair back around her shoulders, striking a pose, speaking a teasing sexy voice. "What do you think, Mr. Wayne?"

"It's perfect. You're perfect." He leaned over, kissing her softly, but when Selina's hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, gently stroking the hair at the back of his neck with her nails, Bruce felt a shiver shoot through him. He didn't pull back so fast this time, and when they kissed again, discreetly hidden in a corner private booth, his hand slid her white lace dress higher up her thigh, resting on her black garter and snaps, undoing the front snap, his lips finally parting against hers. Selina's other hand slid down his chest to grip the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, clenching the expensive material as she opened her mouth for his tongue, both moaning softly as the embrace turned into something better suited for a back room than a corner booth, finally acknowledging the months of built-up tension between them. It had been way, way too long…but this still wasn't the right moment. Not yet. Even Selina could admit that. When they finally were forced to break the kiss to stop themselves from just having sex right there, they just looked at each other, both breathing hard, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked down at her slightly swollen, still parted lips.

"Dessert!" Their waitress cheerily approached the table, Selina banging her knee on the table and Bruce nearly knocking over his wine glass in their hurry to disentangle themselves and look presentable. Even despite their best efforts, the waitress had to stifle a smile as she looked between them, setting down their slice of chocolate cake with two forks. "Enjoy, you two." She gave them a sly wink before disappearing.

Bruce let out a long breath, taking a long sip from his water glass, Selina sliding her tongue along her teeth with a smile as she snapped her black thigh high stocking back to her garter belt.

"Sorry about that." Bruce finally said, using his fork to retrieve a small bite of cake.

"Don't apologize." Selina leaned towards him again. "How's my lipstick?"

Bruce smiled. "Well…you kind of look like someone just kissed the hell out of you."

"Fix it for me?" she purred.

Bruce gently ran his thumb along the bottom of her lip. "There you go."

"Hey, so…" Selina smoothed down his lapels. "I have to go pick up your present after dinner. Can I just meet you back at our hotel room?"

Bruce raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What are you up to?"

"Don't you trust me, Mr. Wayne?"

"Not a chance." Bruce grinned.

"Good answer." She smirked, everything out of her mouth suddenly sounding sexual, Bruce watching her mouth in a sort of daze. "Come on, Bruce. Let's have some cake."

Bruce, perfectly willing to do whatever Selina told him to after that kiss, went back to their hotel room alone, trying to guess what on earth she was up to. When he walked into their bedroom, Bruce stopped with surprise.

His Batsuit was laid out on the floor by his side of the bed. He'd been so out of it when they'd left Gotham he hadn't even realized she'd brought it along with the rest of their luggage. She had definitely kept that piece of information to herself. Maybe she had even forgotten too. Until now, apparently. There was a small folded note resting on the breastplate. He reached down, unfolding it and reading—

_Let's play dress-up. Just for tonight—wear your mask. _

There was an address underneath the note. And instead of a signature, she had left a bright red kiss mark. Bruce let out a stunned laugh. Was she serious?

Not knowing what else to do, he put on the Batsuit, cowl, and mask, finding it surprisingly comfortable to be back in the suit. If she wanted him to call her bluff, he would. If she wanted to play Bat and Cat again…Bruce found himself more than up for the challenge. After that kiss at the restaurant, it was pretty clear that he couldn't stay away from her any longer. He had been trying to keep his distance until he was absolutely sure she was better, but if she was running around town, planning this elaborate of a game, that was good enough for him.

It was their last night in Paris. Might as well make the most of it, he thought with a small smile, heading up to the rooftops. This was risky—bordering on crazy—to chance being spotted in the Batsuit again.

But she was worth the risk.

"Miss Kyle." The curtains fluttered slightly at his arrival, Bruce stepping out of the shadows, back in costume, back behind the mask.

Selina jumped, turning around from vanity mirror in the much cheaper hotel room she'd found for them in the middle of Montmartre. It just seemed much more…Gotham-y.

"So." Selina walked towards him, holding the pearl necklace in one hand, clad in her catsuit and mask. She slid the necklace through her black-gloved fingers. "You found me."

"That necklace belongs to the Wayne family." Bruce played along.

"So call the cops. Or take me in yourself." She set the necklace aside, snaking her arms around his massive shoulders. "I mean…why else would you go through all the trouble of…tracking me down?"

Bruce's gloved hand went to the zipper of her catsuit, sliding it lower. "The police are already on their way."

"So this is your way of detaining me? Are handcuffs involved?" She smiled, leaning closer, kissing him, long and slow, Bruce's hands going to her hips, his grip tightening as he kissed her back.

"You know this can never work, Miss Kyle."

"Call me Selina. And why wouldn't it work?"

"You're a criminal. I've sworn to protect Gotham from people like you."

"Oh, come on…" Selina pushed him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him and unzipping her cat suit far enough to reveal she didn't wear anything underneath. "Why don't you spend the night with the bad girl for once?" She leaned over him, sliding her slick leather-clad fingertips over his mouth. "You know what they say, once you go cat…"

Bruce smiled against her lips as she kissed him again, his hands sliding up her back as she started to undo his utility belt. She tossed it aside, taking his face in her hands. "I wanted this," she breathed out, "all those nights in Gotham." "So did I," Bruce pulled her back to him, kissing her hard as they hurriedly shed the pieces still keeping them apart, Selina crying out when she finally felt him inside her again, groaning his name and, later, even the L-word as she circled her hips against his. They kept as much of their costumes on as possible during sex, masks, boots, gloves, and all, reconnecting so passionately and so many times that they woke up the next morning on the floor in the walk-in closet, Selina asleep on top of him, costumes rumpled and askew, with absolutely no clear memory of how in the world they'd gotten there.

Selina squinted slightly at the clock on the bedside table. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" Bruce lazily traced circles on her back, sounding happier and more peaceful than she'd ever heard him.

"Our flight leaves in two hours." She looked back down at him, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers. "I packed us a change of clothes, and had the hotel deliver the rest of our luggage to the airport. I guess we can't exactly show up for our flight as Batman and Catwoman."

"No, I guess not." Bruce sighed. "Should we take the suits with us?"

"I don't know." Selina shrugged. "I think…I think I'm finally done with mine."

"Me too." Bruce kissed her. "So…just leave them here? Let the staff try to figure out who the hell stayed here last night?"

"Believe me, honey, based on the clientele this place usually gets, those outfits will not be the strangest thing the staff stumbles across this morning." Selina smiled, crawling off of him and getting to her feet, peeling off her mask and catsuit and pulling out the luggage she'd stashed under the bed with their change of clothes.

Bruce changed out of the Batsuit and into the blue button-down shirt and gray slacks she'd packed for him, Selina changing into a nice black dress, heels, and her pearl necklace. They stood together at the mirror, Selina laughing out loud. "Quite the transformation."

Bruce held out his arm. "Miss Reisler."

Selina took it. "Mr. Lamont."

"You ready to see Rome?"

She reached over, fixing his collar. "I'm sure we'll find something to keep us occupied there."

"You know, Selina, I never really worry about boredom when I'm with you."

She laughed, taking his hand and leading him towards the door. "Come on."

A/N- Until chapter six! I hope you all enjoyed—reviews make my day!


	6. Lost in You

A/N- You guys are absolutely amazing. Thanks for everything. Lyrics this time are from "Lost In You."

Pieces

Chapter Six

_I'm lost in you_

_Everywhere I run_

_Everywhere I turn, I'm finding something new_

_Lost in you, something I can't fight_

_I cannot escape_

_I could spend my life lost in you_

Selina smoothed down her bright red silk wrap dress, checking her make-up in the bathroom mirror of the restaurant. Her features looked too big and exaggerated to her, her bright red lipstick almost garish. She hadn't worn make-up in a month. Hell, she'd barely even gotten fully dressed in a month. Bruce had rented them a private villa on the outskirts of Rome, and while to Bruce it probably looked like a modest little summer home, Selina still had to remind herself sometimes that she was living there, not casing the place for a job. It had sprawling grounds and gardens out front, the hills of the Italian countryside for a backyard, and her personal favorite feature, an indoor pool that took up almost the entire bottom floor. Bruce had driven up to the villa their first night, casually telling Selina that it might be nice to finally have a place entirely to themselves. Selina found herself in total agreement, and without a word between them, they both knew exactly what they should do with all of this newfound isolation— they'd barely even made it through the front door that night before they started ripping each other's clothes off, having sex up against the wall of the entryway in between wall hangings of priceless artwork, and then on pretty much every other surface they could find in the days that followed.

Something about spending that last night together in Paris as Batman and Catwoman had altered the tenor of their relationship drastically. It was like some kind of switch had been flicked, a drug had been tasted, and now they (and especially Bruce) literally couldn't get enough. They had always been attracted to each other, but until now, that attraction had been largely curbed by one or both of them hiding something or recovering from some kind of injury. When they'd first started sleeping together in London, there was still so much unsaid between them that moments of true intimacy were fleeting at best, and always laced with some kind of guilt or resentment afterwards when they realized how little they still really knew about each other. Then, after the momentary madness in the alleyway, they had finally come clean about everything, but in Paris, sex had become a rare, and always carefully executed, indulgence in the wake of their various injuries.

But now, here in Italy, all their cards were on the table. All their secrets were out. And they were healthy enough to finally stop holding back. Selina had always considered herself a very sexual person—but Bruce was like a man possessed. She had the distinct feeling that, before her, Bruce had either completely ignored or at least largely stifled the sexual side of himself when it came to relationships. But now that she had given him full permission to express it, even she had been surprised by just how much he had apparently been repressing all those years.

They had finally, reluctantly emerged from their villa to go into town and get dinner out instead of having everything delivered, and climbing in and out of their Maserati, even with Bruce lending a hand, Selina found that she was sore in some very impolite places. She shook her head with a small smirk, thinking that she was going to start walking with a limp if this didn't let up soon.

They had managed to make it through a nice dinner without doing it on the table like they had last night at the villa. So that was something. Bruce had even kept his hands to himself all through their meal. Apparently even this newly liberated Bruce had some sense of social decency. Too bad, Selina thought to herself with a slight twinge of melancholy. All good things must come to an end.

Suddenly, there was a knocking at the single-occupancy bathroom door. "Just a minute." Selina called over her shoulder.

"It's me. Open the door." She heard his rather gruff whisper.

Selina crossed to the bathroom door, opening it and raising her eyebrow when she saw Bruce with a look in his eyes she knew very well after the last few weeks. Maybe all good things didn't have to come to an end just yet. "You lost, handsome?"

He shook his head with a smile, kissing her hard and leading her back inside the bathroom, closing the door behind them, already pulling the silk ties of one side of her dress loose as they started to make out against the door. Selina felt a rush of triumph (and other things) when Bruce slid his hand under the silky material of her neckline to massage her bare breast as they kissed. Apparently getting through one dinner was about all the good behavior he could muster, and suddenly she couldn't be happier, soreness and all.

Selina shook her head, breaking away with a throaty laugh when he backed her up against the sink, Bruce's mouth exploring the side of her neck as he braced himself against the sink with one hand and unzipped his fly with the other. "They're going to think we ran out on the check," she muttered against his ear as Bruce lifted her up onto the sink. "I already paid," Bruce assured her, his large hands sliding up her smooth legs, and then higher to her bare hips, pleased to find that Selina wasn't wearing anything at all under her dress. "Boy scout," she murmured, wrapping her legs around his waist, their breaths hitching in their throats simultaneously when he thrust into her, Selina steadying herself by bracing one of her high heels against the hand dryer as he moved harder against her and things started to feel unbearably good.

After about two frantic minutes of heavy breathing (and the sound of the hand dryer, when Selina accidentally turned it on with her foot), she leaned her head back against the mirror, groaning with pleasure. "Bruce…this…this can't be normal."

"Normal?" Bruce couldn't manage much more than one-word cave man sentences when he was inside her.

"H-How much we…I mean, not that I'm complaining, but…" Selina's voice trembled slightly, losing her train of thought as her whole body started to pulse with growing waves of heat, getting closer, so close she forgot everything but him, Bruce's hands now over hers on the mirror, palm-to-sweaty-palm, their fingers interlaced at the end, Selina going limp in his arms with a shuddering cry, Bruce's head buried against her shoulder when he groaned with release.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Selina seemed to come back to her senses first, letting out a long breath as she looked down at him, her neck and chest flushed bright red, Bruce's hands shaking slightly as she closed her fingers around his, gently lowering his hands back down to the counter. "The bathroom quickie. It's a classic for a reason, huh?"

"Yeah…" Bruce trailed off, looking up at her with an awed expression on his face before he seemed to come back down to earth as well, helping her back onto her feet before zipping his pants back up. "I really was just going to wait for you outside. I…I'm sorry, Selina."

"For what?" Selina grinned, tying her hopelessly wrinkled dress back into place. "You were just very ably proving a point."

"And what point would that be?"

She wrapped her arms around her neck, kissing him softly once more. "You and I…are not yet suitable for public places."

Bruce breathed out. "Selina…some days—most days—being with you…it's all I can think about." Bruce seemed completely dumbfounded by his own behavior. "It's like you said…this can't be normal."

"Yeah, I know. But when have we ever been normal about anything?" Selina shrugged. "You said you paid the check?"

"Yes."

She smirked, grabbing Bruce by the tie and pulling him towards her. "Then take me home."

Later that week, a terrific thunderstorm came rolling in, the storm clouds visible over the mountains behind their villa. Bruce and Selina had fallen asleep together for an afternoon nap, but when Selina woke up, Bruce wasn't there. It was so dark outside it looked like the middle of the night. Selina shivered slightly as she got out of bed, pulling on one of Bruce's t-shirts over her underwear and making her way out of the master suite to look for him.

This place was so enormous that it was easy to lose track of each other, but Selina thought she might know where Bruce had disappeared to. The villa had a personal gym, and if Bruce wasn't doing her, he was working out. She had no idea how he had the energy to hit the gym with the amount of sex they were having, but sure enough, that's where she found him, lifting weights and watching some kind of news program in Italian.

Selina just stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. Shirtless Bruce was always a welcome sight, and she could tell that being back in fighting shape was very important to him. But as he got bigger and bigger muscles, along with the hot car and the villa, there were moments where she felt like she was the interchangeable arm candy fucking Batman, not Selina Kyle sleeping with the sweet, vulnerable guy she'd fallen in love with back in London. Sometimes she missed taking care of him, missed feeling needed for something other than orgasms, missed how much he'd relied on her for support in the beginning. But she didn't really know how to put any of that into words, so she just tried to avoid thinking about it, even as this new phase of their relationship continued to largely revolve around sex. There was never anything halfway with Bruce—he either acted like a monk or a freaking sex addict. He was, as always, a very dedicated individual.

The TV reporter was speaking in very rapid Italian, and Selina knew that Bruce, who was flawlessly fluent in the language of every country they'd visited so far and many others besides, understood every word. He'd been educated at the best universities in the country—hell, the world—and she'd barely graduated high school. Whenever she thought about girls like Rachel that he'd been with before, girls who'd graduated at the top of their Ivy League classes just like him, Selina was struck anew with the notion that she was nowhere near good enough for him. What did she really have to offer to this relationship? What would Bruce honestly list as her favorable attributes? Really good blow jobs? Ability to maintain balance while doing him in eight inch heels?

The sound of Bruce resetting the bench press bar, the many weights clanging with the force of him putting it back into place, shook her out of her thoughts. He suddenly seemed to notice her, muting the TV and grabbing his water bottle to take a long sip as he crossed to her. "Hey. Sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

"Sneakiness. Kind of my thing." Selina shrugged. "Or it was."

Bruce smiled, setting down the water bottle before resting his sweaty hands on her shoulders. "So what's your thing now?"

"I don't know. Maybe it should be getting an eight pack, like you." Selina ran her hand down his ridiculously muscled stomach.

Bruce shook his head. "You don't need to change anything, believe me. You have the best body I've ever seen."

"And you've seen a lot of them."

Bruce's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Honey. Come on. I grew up reading about Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy. What was your motto back then? No Victoria's Secret model left unturned?"

Bruce sighed. "That was mostly bullshit, Selina. It was just part of the cover."

"You're telling me you didn't have sex with those girls?"

"No. I didn't."

"Bruce. I don't care. You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, first of all, billionaires, historically, don't have too hard of a time getting girls to sleep with them. And…" Selina laughed out loud, indicating his muscled body. "Have you _seen _you? Believe me, as a girl who's seen a lot of really rich guys shirtless, it's usually not a very pretty sight."

Bruce blushed slightly. "They…those girls…I could barely get through one dinner of small talk with one of them without wanting to chuck myself off the restaurant balcony."

"Right. And guys never put up with dumb girls to get laid."

"Sex just wasn't…it just wasn't that important to me back then."

"So what's different now? What's different with me?" Selina demanded. "How did you go from the celibate avenger to the guy who wants it three times a day at least?"

Bruce was quiet for a moment, looking profoundly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Selina. I thought you were happy here too."

"I…I just…I can't help thinking you should be with someone better. Someone more like you. Someone who can speak fifty languages. Someone who graduated from some fancy college. I mean…girls like me are good for quickies in the bathroom and sex in the back of your Maserati, but—"

"Stop. Stop it, Selina." Bruce shook his head, looking suddenly exhausted. "You do this every time."

"Do what?"

"Start a fight to try and push me away!" Bruce threw his hands in the air. "Think of some crazy reason we shouldn't be together every time we get close to being happy! I don't get it. I really thought things were good between us, because you _never_ fucking tell me how you feel about anything! Is there some test I still haven't passed? Is there something I still have to do to prove I love you? Because I do. I love you. Better than you doesn't exist, not for me." Bruce took in a deep breath, stepping closer to her, taking her face in his hands. "Selina, there is nothing you could do to lose me. You're not going to lose me, ever, unless _you_ leave. I love you so much, and it kills me every time you do this. And yes, I want you, all the time, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. You speaking fifty languages, or going to some Ivy League college….none of that means shit to me. I've met plenty of girls like that, and I never felt anything for them that was even close to the way I feel about you." Bruce caught his breath for a moment. "All I want is to make you happy. But every time you do this, every time you start pulling away…you make me feel like nothing I do will ever be good enough. Tell me the truth. Is it really the sex thing that's bothering you?" Bruce swallowed hard. "Because if that's what it is…I'll stay away. If that's what it takes for you to believe me, I'll never touch you again."

Selina looked at him for a long moment, examining his expression. He was trying really, really hard to mean it. She couldn't help but be touched.

"No…that's not what I want." She licked her lips. "I'm sorry. I know I don't say it much but…I love you too. I just really want to get this right, and I feel like I never have any idea what I'm doing."

Bruce sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing either, Selina. At all. Ever."

She looked up at him, finally giving him a small smile. "Well, I guess we're hopeless then."

"We'll figure something out." Bruce smiled back.

Selina reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, not caring that he was sweaty, not caring about anything except that she finally believed everything he was saying. Some kind of wall had finally come down between them. They'd broken through. Bruce hugged her back tightly, realizing this might be the first time they had held each other like this—ever. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I'm so crazy."

"You are not crazy. Or if you are, I am too." Bruce smoothed down her long brown hair.

Selina pulled back slightly to look at him after a moment. "Were you really going to be okay with us never having sex again?"

Bruce laughed, looking her over as if trying to decide on his answer. "Uh…not if you keep walking around the house wearing nothing but my shirt."

"I could take it off…?" Selina suggested helpfully, sliding the shirt up high enough to show him the black lacy underwear she was wearing underneath.

"Before you do—" Bruce stopped her with a smile, holding her at arm's length. "I think you are smart. And funny. And my favorite person. For completely non-sexual reasons."

She raised her eyebrows. "Completely?"

"Well…"

Selina laughed out loud, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. "Come on. There's no way I'm having make-up sex in a gym."

"Fair enough."

Later that night, in their massive king-sized bed, Selina was dozing off while Bruce was watching that same Italian news channel.

"Honey…that guy has the most annoying voice in the world…please turn it off." Selina snuggled up against Bruce's chest, grouchy with sleepiness.

"Just until commercial."

When he finally clicked it off when the show went to break, Selina rubbed his chest. "What's wrong? I can practically hear your brow furrowing."

"Just…this story that's been all over the news. Some group of thugs trashed a convent. Took all of their money. Caused thousands of dollars of damage to the cathedral. Sexually assaulted the women who lived there. Nasty stuff. And there's evidence that the attack was orchestrated by the mafia."

"How does a group of nuns piss off the Italian mob?" Selina looked up at him, barely able to make out the outline of his profile in the dark.

"I don't know." Bruce was silent for a moment. "Might be worth looking into though."

"Looking into?"

"Well, I was thinking about going into town tomorrow anyway. I want to check on some investments. Couldn't hurt to swing by. See if there's anything we could do to help."

Selina reached up, kissing his cheek. "I knew you couldn't resist fighting crime for much longer, baby."

"Do you think you could come with me? Take a look around? Covertly?"

"Have we met?"

Bruce smiled, turning on his side towards her, his arm across her stomach. "Goodnight, Selina."

"Night, Bruce."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, but the chapel is closed for worship today." A younger Italian woman in a nun's habit approached Selina sitting on one of the pews in the main chapel of the Villa Aurelia Convent. "I thought we had locked the doors."

_You did,_ Selina thought to herself, but she just smiled pleasantly, looking away from the shattered stained glass windows to the woman and holding out her hand. "My name's Samantha Reisler."

"Sister Cecilia." The nun shook her hand, Selina feeling the cool pressure of a gold wedding band on the woman's left ring finger. To symbolize their commitment to God, she remembered her sister telling her once. "What can we do for you, Miss Reisler?"

"I heard about what happened, and I want to help."

The fact that Selina was carrying a $20,000 Birkin purse and wearing a vintage Chanel blouse over her skinny black pants did not seem to be lost on the woman. Selina figured that the best way to get information was to let the woman know she really did have enough money to help rebuild this place, and wasn't just a snoopy reporter or something. But the woman still looked a little suspicious of Selina's motives. "That's very kind of you, but—"

"Who would do such a thing?" Selina shook her head sadly, looking around at the fabric draped to haphazardly cover the obscene words spray-painted on the altar. "Do the police have any leads?"

Sister Cecilia sank down next to her on the pew, appearing human for the first time as she let out a long, exhausted breath. "Nothing they would ever pursue."

"What do you mean by that?" Selina looked over at her.

The nun met her eyes. "Some men are untouchable on this earth. But he will not escape God's judgment. No one can do that."

"Tell me who did this." Selina leaned in closer. "I have a…friend who takes care of these kinds of things."

It was clear from the look on Sister Cecilia's face that she'd overplayed her hand. The woman shook her head, clamming back up. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think you should leave now. The sisters and I have much to do in the wake of such a tragedy."

Selina nodded, deciding to take a different tack. "Fair enough." She gathered up her things. "I hope they find the guy."

Sister Cecilia looked up at her, a false pleasantness to her smile. "God bless you for your compassion, ma'am."

Selina returned the fake smile, turning to go and walking out of the main doors of the chapel, but instead of leaving, she took a sharp right to the bathroom. She stripped off her heels, slipped a translating device Bruce had lent her out of her Birkin, and left the purse and shoes behind as she climbed up into the ventilation system, making her way via air duct surreptitiously past all the locked doors into the part of the convent not open to the public. From the research she'd done that morning, she knew it was a women's shelter, and she could now see it came complete with a spacious kitchen, sleeping quarters, and what looked like a makeshift medical facility. It might have once been a nice place, but it was completely ransacked from the attack last night, crime scene tape everywhere, beds flipped over, windows broken, some of the walls even riddled with bullet holes.

It looked to be mostly deserted, but eventually, Selina saw Sister Cecilia approaching a much older woman who was sorting through some of the mess of medical records with withered, shaking hands. They began speaking in rapid Italian, but Selina had turned on the translator to read what they were saying on the small screen.

"Did you get rid of our visitor?" The older woman asked Sister Cecilia.

"Yes."

"Matteo's idea of a joke, I suppose."

"I don't know. She didn't seem like his usual type. Maybe she really was just a person trying to help." Sister Clarice shrugged.

"Or his way of surveying his work." The older woman looked down for a moment, and Selina could practically feel the fury emanating off of her. "But God is good. Veronica is safely away now. Matteo didn't accomplish his scheme."

"He accomplished plenty of other things last night." Sister Clarice said darkly.

"His judgment is coming. You will see."

"I know, Mother. I know."

They went their separate ways, so Selina saved the conversation on the device and made her way back to the bathroom, climbing out of the ceiling and landing gracefully on her bare feet. She slipped back on her heels, slung her purse over her shoulder with the translation device safely stored away inside, and made her way out of the convent and back into the aggressively sunny day outside.

"This seat taken?" Selina smiled, joining Bruce at the outdoor café where they had agreed to meet later that afternoon.

Bruce looked up from his laptop with a smile as well, dressed rather adorably touristy in sunglasses, a white t-shirt, and jeans. "How'd it go?"

"Good. Got us two names to go on. Veronica is the name of a girl who was hiding out at the women's shelter within the convent—it sounded like they had smuggled her out of the country or something, and that had set the whole thing off. And then they seemed to think the perpetrator was a man named—"

"Matteo." Bruce finished for her, turning his laptop around so she could see Lucius Fox's computer database search program open. "I've been reading through the police reports on the attack. Nothing about a Veronica, but plenty about a man named Giovanni Matteo. Youngest son of Lorenzo Matteo, suspected as the boss of one of the more prominent crime families in Rome. The police have never been able to pin anything substantial on the father, but apparently Giovanni's not as clever. See for yourself."

Selina leaned in, pushing her sunglasses back into her hair so she could see the computer screen better, reading over Giovanni Matteo's criminal records. "Wow. He's been a busy boy lately." She sat back in her chair. "It's like Gotham and Falconi all over again."

"Names change. Criminals don't." Bruce conceded. "So I think we can safely assume that this Veronica was involved with Giovanni." Bruce pointed at the criminal record. "He has five domestic assault and battery charges on his record, all involving ex-girlfriends or wives. He was even a suspect in a murder case ten years ago when his first wife 'fell down the stairs' and broke her neck, but they could never pin it on him conclusively. And apparently her body disappeared from the morgue before they could do an autopsy and determine the true cause of death. They never found her."

Selina shuddered slightly. "Charming." She took a long sip of her newly delivered glass of wine. "So he beats up Veronica, she hides out with Sister Mary Clarence and Company, and they help her get away from him. Mob Boss Jr. gets wind of what's happened, can't find her, and shoots up the convent to punish them for taking away his favorite toy."

Bruce looked disgusted. "We have to put an end to this."

Selina nodded. "Where's Giovanni now?"

"Well, that's where the story gets even more interesting. His father and the family won't pay his bail. He's still sitting in prison. The police apprehended him near the crime scene on the night of the attack, but he hasn't been formally charged with anything yet."

"And he won't." Selina ran her tongue over her teeth. "Wonder why Daddy's letting him rot."

"I intend to find out."

"How?"

"I'm going to pay a visit to Matteo Sr. tonight. See what I can find out."

"You want some help?"

Bruce shook his head, having a sudden flash of Selina in her hospital bed. "No. I'll be fine. Just use my computer at home and find out everything you can about Veronica."

Selina looked at him for a moment, an odd expression behind her eyes. But whatever she was thinking, she didn't say it. She just took another slow sip of her wine. "Be careful, Bruce."

"I will." Bruce nodded, almost dismissively, and Selina felt her hand involuntarily tighten on the stem of her wine glass.

"Should we order?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah." Selina looked down across the table at his glass of water. "You're not drinking?"

"Not while I'm working."

Selina pressed her lips together for a moment. "Right. Of course not."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Let's order." Selina looked down at her menu, privately thinking that if Bruce thought she really would just sit at home tonight, he still had a lot to learn about her.

"If you'd like, we can recommend an outpatient therapist—after what you went through—" The nurse offered helpfully.

"I'll be fine." Sister Mary Elizabeth said more firmly, affixing her habit back in place, trying to retain her dignity even though her face was covered with dark bruises and deep cuts from her ordeal. "Who do I speak with about payment for my treatment?"

"It's been taken care of." The nurse assured her, walking her towards the front door. "All of your medical expenses have been paid."

Mary Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, looking confused. "By whom? The church?"

"No, ma'am. By a woman who says she wants to speak with you."

The color drained from Mary Elizabeth's face, thinking of the Matteo family and the vengeance they had promised. "What woman?"

"She says her name is Samantha Reisler. And she's right outside." The nurse pointed towards a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman in a short black dress leaning back against a black Lamborghini in front of the hospital. She looked American—and Reisler didn't exactly sound like the last name of a moll. Curiosity peaked, Sister Mary Elizabeth thanked the nurse for all that she'd done and walked outside.

She crossed towards Selina, who nodded her head towards the still-purring Lamborghini. "You want a ride?"

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Mary Elizabeth spoke English very well.

"No, but I heard about what happened to you and the women you work with. You could say I…I have a personal interest in bringing the man who did this to you to justice."

Mary Elizabeth looked at her for a long moment, before shaking her head, tears in her blue eyes. "What can you do? They'll never convict him of anything. That monster has the best team of lawyers in Italy."

"I can help you. I promise you, I can help."

"You already have. That was very generous of you to pay my medical expenses." Mary Elizabeth looked embarrassed. "I…I don't like to take other people's charity."

"It's not charity. It's a bribe." Selina grinned. "I need you to put in a good word for me with the sisters of Villa Aurelia. We're going to have to work together on this if we want anything to get done." She could tell Mary Elizabeth was about to agree. "Look, get in. We'll talk on the way."

"I live a block from here."

"We'll take the scenic route." Selina shrugged, clicking a button on her keys to automatically open the side door for Mary Elizabeth. "Jump in, honey. And hold on tight."

Lorenzo Matteo never trusted anyone else to lock up his books and close up his office. He always did it himself when the day was done, muttering to himself as he hauled his enormous girth out of his desk chair, knowing that time and endless double-crosses had turned him into a bitter, suspicious man, but also knowing that many had tried to take his throne, and no one had yet succeeded. So he must be doing something right.

He slipped the butter-soft material of his custom leather jacket over his hunched, rounded shoulders, making his way towards the door of his office when suddenly he heard a voice behind him. A very familiar voice. A voice so much like his own, speaking in stilted, choked Italian.

"Papa…papa, please…you have to help me. I did not do this horrible thing. Veronica is the love of my life. I had nothing to do with this…please, help me."

Lorenzo slowly turned, his eyes dark with rage. He saw an unfamiliar man, tall and muscular, wearing all black and a ski mask over his face, standing in front of the window silhouetted by moonlight, playing the message he'd hacked from Lorenzo's own phone, which Lorenzo had spent a fortune safe guarding with every security measure known to man.

Once the message was played, the unknown man slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. "Not taking your own son's call from prison." The man spoke Italian, but with traces of an American accent in his rough, rasping tones. "Help me understand. Murder of a girl no one bothers to look for is forgivable, but landing the Matteo family on the front page for raping and beating nuns is not?"

"Who the hell are you?" Lorenzo demanded. The man said nothing, so Lorenzo pulled out the Beretta from the waist of his pants. "I want a fucking answer. Who are you? Who sent you?"

The man moved so fast Lorenzo could not react in time to stop him from slamming Lorenzo back against the wall and taking the gun from his hands, emptying the clip and tossing the gun aside with one smooth motion. "Tell me!' The man shook him, lifting him off his feet as if Lorenzo—who was easily over three hundred pounds—weighed nothing. "Why? Why not bail him out? Don't you want to take care of your own?"

"Look…if Gio sent you, you can tell him it's no good. Some hired grunt isn't going to make me pay his bail. Nothing will. I want nothing to do with that boy. He is dead to me. To his mother. To the family. Since the day he was born, he was been a torment to all of us. And I am not cleaning up his messes anymore. He is disowned. I had him taken out of the will. He's not touching my money, even if you kill me tonight."

"Your son didn't send me. I came on my own. I came to stop him from hurting anyone else. They'll release him soon; you know they will. Nothing they have on him is enough to put him away."

Lorenzo looked up at this strange masked avenger, letting out a wheezing breath he felt like he'd been holding in for years.

"Tell me. Are you a father?" Lorenzo asked him.

The man shook his head.

"Then you could never understand this feeling." Lorenzo looked exhausted, just shaking his head. "My son will hurt more women if they release him. I know this. He's not well. I…I am trying to help him. I am trying to help him by leaving him where he belongs."

"Then help me keep him there. Tell me everything you know about Veronica. And why she was so afraid of him."

"Don't worry about Veronica." Lorenzo shook his head. "Worry about the next girl. Worry about Dominare."

"Dominare?"

"His nightclub." Lorenzo looked up into the man's eyes. "His hunting ground."

The masked man nodded, releasing Lorenzo and disappearing back out the window. Lorenzo straightened the collar of his jacket, going to the window and looking out over the streets of Rome. His mysterious visitor was nowhere to be seen.

"What can you tell me about that night?" Selina looked over at her new companion. They'd been driving around Rome for quite awhile now, Selina exploring the city and letting Mary Elizabeth ride in silence for a long time. She had found her name in the police reports on Bruce's computer, and it seemed that Mary Elizabeth was the only one who had come forward about being sexually assaulted by the men who broke into the convent, though from what Selina knew of criminals, she doubted Mary Elizabeth was the only girl who'd been violated, just the only one who'd confessed.

She was a young girl—Selina would guess around nineteen or twenty, pale, blond hair, blue eyes. She reacted to the world like a little frightened animal, very jumpy and skittish, seemingly and understandably overwhelmed by the events of the past few days. But the more information Selina had, the more she and Bruce could help the women of Villa Aurelia.

"Veronica had come to us before. She heard that we helped women in trouble. He would beat her senseless, she would come to us, we would tell her to leave him, but she would go back. She came to us so many times that the sisters and I developed a true friendship with her, and eventually, she began to listen to our prayerful advice. She asked us to help her get out of Rome, to get to her sister in America. She got the money she needed, she came to the convent, and we helped her make the boat to America. Somehow, Giovanni had found out her plans. But not soon enough to stop her. He was waiting for us, with all of his men, when we returned to the shelter. He went mad with rage, shooting everywhere, everything, demanding we tell him where she had gone. We all refused. And they began destroying God's temple. They were all intoxicated. They encouraged each other to darker deeds. They had cut the phone lines and blocked off the doors so we could not phone for help or leave the convent. Most of them beat us, but did no more at first. Giovanni saw me trying to get away, and he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me into the confessional. He asked me…he asked me if I was really a virgin." Mary Elizabeth's voice caught in her throat, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I told him that I was. That purity was part of my vows to God."

They were stopped at a red light now, but Selina her eyes on the road. She knew that sometimes it was easier to say the truth out loud when you didn't feel the other person staring right at you.

"He pushed me back against the wall, his hand around my neck, the barrel of his gun pressed against my cheek. He made me take off my underwear and give them to him and he stuffed them into his jacket pocket, saying he would keep them as a trophy. He said he'd never had a virgin before." Mary Elizabeth swallowed hard. "He took advantage of me, and it was the worst pain of my life. I was bleeding, crying, screaming for help. It felt like I was being ripped in half. He said horrible things to me, grunting like an animal, and then it was over. Afterwards, he whipped me across the face with his gun, many times. He was laughing while he did it. And then he left me there to die. The police arrived not long after. Someone had called when they heard the gunshots. They took me to the hospital. And here we are." Mary Elizabeth wiped off her cheeks. "And all I keep thinking…it is so selfish, but I can't think of anything else…what if I am pregnant?"

"You could…I mean, there's always the Morning After pill." Selina suggested.

"No. I could never…no." Mary Elizabeth shook her head determinedly. "If I am, this child is in God's will."

"I'm not your Mother Superior, honey. You don't have to give me your Sunday school answer." Selina took a right turn at the light. "I'll take you to the pharmacy myself."

"No. I'm not…giving you a false answer. I believe every trial is part of God's plan. I must show those who wronged me His mercy and forgiveness." Mary Elizabeth nodded to herself. "And I must believe that this man will be subject to divine justice."

"Now justice I can damn well guarantee." Selina assured her, pulling up in front of the convent. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. But I promise you, my friend and I can help. We do this kind of thing all the time. We will find Giovanni. And make this right."

"You have true conviction for this." Mary Elizabeth looked at her closely. "Why is it so important to you?"

"I know what it is to feel helpless. Like there's no one who cares. But I do care. And I will help you. I promise you that."

"I believe you." Mary Elizabeth smiled softly. "You will come back?"

"Yes. I'll come back. As long as you put in a good word with your sisters. Tell them I'm here to help all of you."

"I will."

Selina and Mary Elizabeth looked up at the convent, dark and gothic in the shadows of the night. "Are you sure you want to go back there?" Selina asked her quietly.

"Yes. I have been called to this place. And I will not abandon my calling just because I have been tested."

Selina looked back to Mary Elizabeth, clearly impressed. "I admire you. I really do."

"Thank you. For everything." Mary Elizabeth climbed out of the sports car, walking past the crime scene tape and letting herself in the graffiti-ridden front doors of the church, returning to her calling.

Selina waited until the young girl was safely inside the door before pulling away from the curb, torn between thinking Mary Elizabeth was either crazy or the bravest person she'd ever met. Or both.

When she pulled up to the villa, she saw Bruce's Maserati already parked in the driveway.

Selina felt a sinking in her stomach, but shrugged it off, turning off the Lamborghini and strutting towards the front door in her short dress and high heels, shoulders squared, projecting all the confidence in the world. Who cares if he knew she'd gone out? He wasn't her keeper.

She unlocked the front door and stepped inside, ready for a fight. And sure enough, Bruce stepped out of the kitchen and into the main foyer, his eyes dark with some mixture of hurt and anger as Selina closed the front door behind her.

"I've been calling you for the past two hours."

Selina shrugged. "I must have left my phone on silent."

Bruce stepped towards her. "Is this fun for you? Disappearing and not taking my calls and letting me wonder if you're hurt or worse?"

Selina pushed past him towards the staircase. "I can take care of myself, Bruce. Leave me alone."

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him. "Stop acting like such a child."

"Stop pretending like _you're_ my fucking father." Selina hissed. "Sorry, honey, but that's not my kink. I don't have to ask your permission to leave the house."

"I'm not saying that!"

"Then why didn't you want me to help you tonight?" She demanded. "Today, at lunch, why did you treat me like some little trophy wife who was supposed to just sit at home and take a fucking bubble bath while you fought the battle that was supposed to be ours? I thought we were a team. I thought we were in this together."

"We are a team. But I'm not putting you in danger when I don't have to."

"You are not cutting me out of this one." Selina shook her head.

"Why is bringing down the mob so important to you?"

"It's not that! I mean, it's not _just_ that. It's protecting people like Mary Elizabeth. The woman Giovanni assaulted. The woman I met with tonight." Selina took a deep breath. "She was a virgin, Bruce. She made a promise to God to stay that way, and he took that away from her. I can't hear things like that and do nothing. Not after..."

"Not after what?" Bruce moved his hand from her arm to her cheek, gently stroking her skin with his thumb. "Please tell me. Tell me what started all of this for you."

Selina pressed her lips together for a moment as she considered him. "I'm gonna need a drink first."

Bruce nodded, leading her towards the kitchen and pouring her a glass of whiskey straight. "You want any ice?" Bruce asked.

Selina took the glass, swallowing it in one sip, her voice slightly hoarse after. "No, thank you." She turned away from him, staring out the window at the sprawling grounds behind their home, her arms crossed over her chest. Bruce sat down at the kitchen table, getting the feeling she could only tell this story if she didn't have to look at him.

"I was just thirteen when my mother died, and my sister and I needed money. I didn't know any other way to get it fast enough. I started working on the streets. I lost my virginity to my pimp in a bathroom stall, and then he beat me up for not telling him I was a virgin. He said he could have charged a john more money for my first night if he had known. He wasn't very particular about who he sold his girls to, but usually he didn't let them rough us up too bad. That was his job, if we didn't make our monthly payments to him." Selina paused for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ears, a nervous habit Bruce had noticed emerged whenever she didn't want to tell him something. But she went on.

"I worked for him for three years, and made just enough so that my sister and I didn't starve. But then one night, he sent me to a party. I'd never worked a party alone before, and it seemed strange that he sent me by myself. Usually parties wanted three or four girls. It was a group of men who worked for the Joker, back when he was first gaining ground in Gotham. They wanted to blow off some steam after a big bank job. Some kind of warm-up for the one where the Joker got your attention, I think. He hadn't involved himself directly yet. The minute I got to the hotel room, I had a bad feeling. Something was wrong. There were too many of them. Seven at least, and more kept showing up. They made me drink a whole bottle of vodka, and they'd obviously put something in it. It felt like I was paralyzed, but I didn't pass out. They took off all my clothes and bound my wrists and ankles with electrical ties. The rest of the night…it was like I was their toy. Anytime I would start to get more responsive or try to say anything or call out for help, they would shove a rag in my mouth that was soaked in something that kept me quiet. They all took turns raping me so many times I lost count. I kept praying I would just go numb, be able to go somewhere else in my mind, but I couldn't. It hurt every time. I remember when I started bleeding on that cheap green carpet, they started laughing that they'd probably get fined by house keeping for the stains. Sometimes they would get bored and kick me around the room, watch me crawl to the door and then drag me back, like I was an animal they caught in a trap." Selina poured herself another drink, still refusing to look at Bruce, her hands shaking violently as she raised the drink to her lips and swallowed it down. "I was only in that room for about eight hours, but it felt like that night went on forever. I felt so helpless. Hopeless. And I swore to myself I would never feel like that again. The next day, I got out. I found someone who could teach me what I needed to know to become The Cat. I started training to become what I am now. My first night in costume, I robbed all of those men blind. Ruined them. Probably got them all killed by the Joker. And I never looked back. When my sister saw me the morning after what those men had done to me, she went into a convent. She said she didn't want to be a burden on me ever again. And she didn't want to live in a world like Gotham any longer. She said she had to find a way to make peace with the hate in her heart."

"And you?" Bruce finally spoke, his voice very quiet.

"Someone asked me once if I became the Cat because I hated men. I told him that was impossible because I'd never met one. Not a real man, anyway." Selina set down her drink, finally looking at Bruce, long and hard. "I don't feel that way anymore."

Bruce got to his feet, crossing to her and hugging her tightly. "You're the strongest person I've ever known," he spoke into her hair, his voice breaking slightly, Selina wrapping her arms around him as well, surprising herself when she started to cry into his shoulder, tears she had held in for over a decade, tears she never thought she'd trust another person enough to show.

They stayed like that for a long time, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, until there were no more tears left. Finally, Bruce spoke again—

"I want us to do this job together. And everything else. For the rest of our lives."

Selina laughed slightly, pulling back to look at him, her eye make-up hopelessly smeared down her cheeks. "What are you saying?"

"Marry me."

A/N- Next time—Selina's answer to his proposal as she and Bruce harness their inner Bat and Cat to wage all-out war on the Matteo family, all culminating in Selina hatching a plan so insanely dangerous and high-stakes that both Bruce and Selina's relationship and specialized skills will be tested like never before…reviews make my day!


End file.
